Falling Is Like This
by inadaze22
Summary: Rose Weasley's life is all about routine and passing fancies; that is, until she witnesses something that changes everything. On her quest to find answers, Rose will learn that there are many ways to fall, and no way to avoid it.
1. The World’s Worst Birthday Proposition

_I built the bridge across the stream of consciousness  
It always seems to be a flowing, but I don't know which way my brain is going  
Oh the rhyming, and the timing, keeps melodies inside me  
And I'm climbing til I'm running out of air  
Are you prepared to take a dive into the deep end of my head?  
Are you listening to a single word I've said?_  
**Wordplay - Jason Mraz  
**

**Chapter One—****The World's Worst Birthday Proposition**

Rose decided that if one more of her dad's old team-mates threw an arm over her shoulder and said: _"Nine more years until you turn thirty, Old Rose,"_ she would black the fuck out. And when she came to, bad things would have happened.

There would be blood.

And lots of it.

Mum used to say that getting older was akin to becoming happier. _"You'll begin to know yourself,"_ she'd told Rose the day before her seventeenth birthday, _"Your boundaries will coalesce, and your openness will expand, all at the same time."_ The generality of her mother's esoteric abstractions were what infuriated Rose most. She'd been twenty-one for nearly nineteen hours, but still felt like the same sixteen-year-old who had asked what it felt like to get older. Rose was still waiting for all that shrinking, expanding, and self-actualising stuff to happen.

Well, it wasn't going to happen tonight.

She was almost sure of it.

Every year - scratch that - every _fucking_ year, Rose was subjected to this brand of torture where everyone she knew, and many she didn't, crowded under a tent just outside the Burrow to celebrate not just her birthday, but the start of a brand new year. In five years, what had started as a one-time solution to the problem of two overlapping events—Rose's Sweet Sixteenth and the family's annual New Year's Eve celebration—had been turned into a complete freak show.

But of course, the party was going wonderfully for everyone who was_ not_ Rose.

Funny how that worked.

Laughter and conversation were punctuated by the clanking of champagne glasses and the warble of Daisy Bladvak cutting through the air. It wasn't much of a surprise to Rose that the makeshift dance floor was virtually empty, save for Uncle George and the gaggle of little kids he was jumping around with.

While the wizard standing in front of her made small talk, Rose let her eyes aimlessly wander the room. She hated small talk as much as she hated crowds, so the combination of small talk in the middle of the crowded tent was something she really wanted to bury.

And fast.

Rose caught her grandmum looking in her direction and whispering animatedly to her granddad, which was never a good thing. She was plotting—again. As far as grandmum was concerned, Rose was the worst kind of late bloomer: a lazy one. She worried most about Rose becoming the old lady with ten cats and a fondness for non-perishables. It was a ridiculous fear. _Really_.

For starts, she _hated_ cats. And she wasn't completely hopeless when it came to relationships. She'd had boyfriends before. _Plenty of them_. Good ones, bad ones, boring ones, weird ones, and a few shady ones. Rose never took any of them seriously because they never stayed around longer than a couple of months; something that really worried her family. Part of the problem was that Rose had never been good at relationships, and she accepted the blame for it. She'd never been completely clear on how they worked, or if they were worth her time. It wasn't like she had many examples of how _sane_ relationships worked.

Sure, her grandparents were stable, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the success of their marriage had something to do with two wars and the amount of time granddad spent in the shed. Hugo was asexual and couldn't be bothered with the opposite sex. Her cousins went through more 'serious relationships' than she went through Pepper-up potions during cold season. Oh, and her parents had gotten married because her mum had been sick of her dad.

"_Truthfully, he wouldn't leave me alone."_

_Hugo busted out laughing while Rose just blinked. This was not the story she'd expected. "What?"_

_Her mother chuckled. "He kept randomly saying 'I'm gonna marry you.' I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself, but after a year of it, I finally said 'Prove it' to shut him up."_

It was a wonder Rose wasn't living on a farm in the country, wearing a floral pink muumuu and feeding her twelve kids porridge.

She shuddered at the thought.

"Are you cold?"

Rose jerked her head up at the sound of a male voice. She tilted her head to the side, trying desperately to recall his name. She _really_ should know. They'd been talking for the last—she checked her new watch— ten minutes. "Oh, I'm fine. The Warming charms are perfect…." Her words trailed off when she met her grandmum's excited eyes. Rose died a little on the inside when she beamed and nudged her granddad, who was more interested in his cake. Rose manoeuvred herself so she couldn't feel the weight of her stare.

"Everything okay?" the wizard asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Oh, just fine, but I'm pretty sure that my Nan's planning our wedding. Is she still looking over here?"

He snorted in an attempt to cover his laughter, but his shoulders were shaking when he answered, "Yes, she is."

"Just try not to look like you're having a good time. So what were you saying before?"

Another snort quickly followed her request, but he quickly fell back into—well, whatever they had been discussing before. It was only a matter of seconds before Rose's attention drifted to something else, like trying to find other familiar faces in the crowd. Strangely enough, there were just as many 'famous people' there as second and third cousins twice removed whose names she couldn't recall.

She saw Hugo sitting at a nearby table between Lorcan and Lysander, James and his girl-of-the-week were sneaking out the tent, Scorpius and his date were across the room in deep discussion—probably about serious current affairs, and Albus was out there somewhere. Thankfully, the parental units were still out of sight. _Good_. Rose definitely wasn't happy with them now.

Following the birthday ritual of singing, blowing out candles, and cutting quite possibly the largest cake she'd ever seen, her mother had given Rose instructions to go mingle – alone. While Rose knew her mum had her best intentions at heart, what she failed to understand was that sending her off on her own wasn't a good idea. Not at all. She always needed someone present to make sure she didn't make an arse of herself. If Rose was famous for anything, it was for her ability to butcher the English language when forced into social situations.

"…isn't that strange?"

_What? _Oh. Rose smiled. "Yes, it was. So…" she trailed off, still unable to remember his name. Quinn? Quant? Quartz?

"Quincy." He gave Rose a dazzling smile that made her cheeks redden.

Truthfully, it was really hard to remember his name when he was towering over her and looking at her intensely. He was giving her one of those 'I know everything about you, even though we've never met' looks. Rose, unfortunately, was quite familiar with that look. It was one of the many curses of being the daughter and niece of war heroes. And with her grandmum's eyes burrowing a hole into the back of her skull, the look he was giving her didn't make her any more comfortable. When he approached her, Rose had done everything to act indifferent to his proximity and to his blue eyes. She obviously was a great actress, or else he'd pretended not to notice her discomposure.

Either way, it really was criminal for a man to be so attractive.

Rose smiled and carefully swept her auburn bangs aside. It was a completely useless act, but it made her feel better. Slightly. "Sorry about that. I've met a lot of people tonight. It doesn't help that I'm horrid at names."

"Understandable."

A brief pause later, she mustered enough courage to ask, "So, Quincy, what do you do?"

"I'm a model for _Playwitch_."

Her eyes bugged. "You _do_ know I'm not a model, right? I wanted to be one when I was ten. I have a good walk, but I'm too short and like eating too much. And we know how _that_ works in the industry—oh. Not to say that _you_ don't eat. And I'm not a glutton or anything, but…_bugger_."

Quincy's smile was wide.

"I ramble, sorry."

"You don't have to apologise. I think it's cute."

Rose would've blushed if she didn't feel so weird. "In an awkward way, I'm sure."

Leaning closer with an intact smile, he said, "No, just cute. Like you."

_Really smooth, Quincy,_ Rose thought sarcastically. Too bad she couldn't get those words out. Probably because she couldn't shake the idea that he was actually sincere. "Umm…" After unsuccessfully willing herself to say something sassy, she gave a half-hearted sigh. She was never any good at intentional wit. Or accepting compliments. Or flirting back. Or _anything_ like that. "I think I need a drink."

"What's that in your hand?" he pointed out.

"An empty flute…all gone. I'm suddenly—nice to meet you, Quincy." With that, Rose made her way over to the cake table and cut herself a large piece—her third of the night. And after briefly searching the room, she spotted an empty table in the corner of the room and out of her grandmum's sight. Quickly, she sat down. She couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a time when she didn't feel extremely weird when someone admired her. Especially good looking wizards.

Every thought vacated her mind when she took a bite of moist birthday cake.

"Hi, Rose!"

She bit down on the fork, cursing to herself as Lily sat down. "Hai," she muttered. What did _she_ want?

"I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Despite having a mouth full of cake, she replied, "Vou habbn't."

Lily wrinkled her nose, trying to cover her disgust. "Right. Well, I've spent my last few weeks in a number of studios, collaborating with various singers. I must've written over thirty songs in the last six weeks. It's exhausting, yet rewarding, but such is life as a songwriter."

With a number one single, Daisy Bladvak had taken Lily from writing terrible jingles for commercials on the Wireless to writing terrible songs for all the top pop artists. In Rose's opinion, it was a lateral jump that just happened to pay a lot more.

Rose gestured to her cake, silently asking if she wanted any and hoping that she would accept. Anything to shut her up. Of course Lily killed all hope of a quiet existence when she said, "I don't want any cake, unless it's strawberry… is it strawberry?"

"No, but it is good," she answered in between bites. "I can go and—"

She shook her head. "No, I was thinking that we could sit here and catch up."

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. "Huh?"

"Yes, like where do you—oh _that's right_, Al told me you quit your job in Floo Regulations, just yesterday, right?"

"Yes." Rose stabbed the cake.

She was going to _kill_ Albus…or hire someone that would.

"Four jobs in one year, that's a record, even for you."

Or maybe _she_ would just kill Lily and get it over with.

Lily smiled and flipped her wavy red hair over her shoulder. "I really think this is your year Rose. The year you find a career that you love, so that you can be just as happy and successful as I am."

That _insincere_—Rose started to shove another piece of cake into her mouth just as an attractive wizard walked towards their table. Oh fuck. What was his name, again? Fon—Re—Alfonzo! The tall bloke with the crooked smile her dad had introduced to her. He'd given Rose an excited—not one but _two—_'thumbs up' as if she should've jumped into his arms and shoved her tongue down Alfonzo's throat right there.

Clearly, Rose had missed something important.

With a sort of grace she never thought a man his height could possess, Alfonzo slipped into the chair next to her. "So we meet again."

A smirk crept across her face at his corny greeting. "It looks like it."

Alfonzo touched her shoulder. "They say the second time is always better."

He was making it easy for her to reject him for the second time. Rose brushed him off. "I'm positive that the _third _time is actually the charm. So, why don't you walk away and—"

Lily gave her a rather hard 'introduce me' nudge that made Rose wince and cut a death stare in her cousin's general direction. However, the look softened when she came up with the perfect plan that would kill—_get rid of_ two birds with one stone. "Alfonzo." Her eyes had a mind of their own and rolled involuntarily. "This is my cousin, Lily Potter."

Alfonzo politely shook her hand. "The daughter of _the_ Harry Potter?"

Her cousin's smile was disturbingly bright. "Yes."

"Nice meeting you." And then, to Rose's surprise and Lily's shock, Alfonzo completely dismissed her. She could almost feel the steam of Lily's anger when he said, "So Rose, I was wondering if you would like to dance."

Dance? With him? She inwardly snorted. Not if she could help it. Alfonzo was about as intriguing as a fruit basket. And her dad liked him. Enough said, really. "Oh, I'll have to pass on that _intriguing_ offer, but I'm sure Lily here will be _more_ than willing to take my place."

Alfonzo looked disappointed, but stood and took her cousin's extended hand. As they started towards the dance floor, he turned to say something—probably to ask if she would reconsider—but Lily pulled him away. Rose tried not to laugh at the strange look Alfonzo gave her. Lily was his problem, at least for the next few minutes.

_Success_.

Rose crossed her legs at the knee and enjoyed the freedom that came with Lily's absence. She tried to relax in her chair, but the music and the few glimpses of Lily dancing like a moron made that difficult, nevertheless she was determined. Once Lily returned, Rose would be right back to stuffing her face with birthday cake while she babbled on endlessly about a four minute dance. Although, now that Rose thought about it, she could handle that sort of thing. It was behaviour typical of Lily.

The whole 'let's chat like we're the closest cousins in the world' thing…was not.

It was actually quite frightening.

When it came down to it, Rose clearly didn't know her cousin well because Lily returned from her dance with Alfonzo more chatty and incorrigible than ever. "Do you know who that was?! That was _the_ Alfonzo Plumpton! _I _danced with Alfonzo Plumpton." Grinning, she dropped back into her seat as if she weighed nothing at all.

Rose blinked. "Okay…"

"His great grandfather is Roderick Plumpton. He made the fastest snitch-catch, ever! It only makes sense that he's the Seeker for the Montrose Magpipes." It wasn't that Lily was a big Quidditch fan; she was a fan of the good-looking wizards who played. For a second, they watched dark-haired wizard with his friends. One of them punched him in the arm and said something that made him frown. "I think he's very cute."

Rose agreed reluctantly and silently. "He looks sort of like Peter McLaggen—too bad he's probably just as much of a pompous wanker."

"You're too judgmental, Rose. You don't even know him."

"True, but I do know his kind. Overly beautiful and arrogant people are usually idiots. Why? Because our universe, in general, is fair."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

She had a light bulb moment. "Is he single?"

Her cousin tsked. "Of course he is, but I'm not so sure why. He's one of the most famous Quidditch players in Britain. Any witch would be lucky to have him."

And _now _Rose knew why her dad had introduced them. He hadn't let go of the dream—or _nightmare_, in Rose's opinion—that his little Rosie would grow up and marry a Quidditch player. Like him.

She snorted at the thought.

Conversation moved on to Lily describing every detail of their dance, and then to her gossiping about everyone at the party—and even those who weren't. After what felt like _hours_ of non-stop chattering, Rose seriously considered strangling her, but knew it would only end with tears, a torn family, and many years in Azkaban. Not worth it. At least not at the moment. Certainly her mind _had_ to change before the night was over, right? Right. Besides, strangling someone took time and effort that could be put into other things.

Like seeing how fast she could eat this piece of birthday cake.

"Alfonzo told me that the lead singer of The Veelas is dating his best friend, who just so happens to be a Chaser for the Montrose Magpipes," she babbled. "I bet it won't even last a month. She'll smother him to death. I worked with her just last week on their new album, and I know for a _fact_ that she hates being single. We even wrote a song together about it!"

Rose shoved another forkful of cake into her mouth. Seriously, what did she want?

"Mum told me that Minister Havelock is furious that his daughter is dating the Seeker for the Tutshill. You know, I actually met him tonight - they're both around here somewhere. I saw them while dancing I was dancing with Alfonzo. They look nice together and they seem happy. I'm not sure what Minister Havelock's issue is." She leaned closer. "Oh, and between you and me, I've seen a lot of pictures of him in _Witch Weekly_, but he's even more attractive in person."

Despite being cousins, they had never been close, not like she and Albus were. So, being around Lily for no reason was as strange as a mosh-pit at a Celestine Warbeck concert. Lily wanted something— that much she knew, but she didn't know what.

"Oh, and have you seen Scorpius' date for the evening?"

Rose's focus was currently on trying to figure out what she would do now that the last fudge treat was in her mouth. Fortunately, she'd heard enough of Lily's question to give a short nod in response. Scorpius had come with Henrietta Sweeting, who was infamous for breaking quills during tests and having tea stains on her clothes. Henrietta was in Rose's year, but was a Ravenclaw, like Scorpius. They'd had Arithmancy and Ancient Runes together, but weren't more than passing acquaintances. She always had a feeling that Henrietta didn't like her. Rose didn't know if it was because she was a Slytherin or because she often barged in on her and Scorpius' study sessions while they were in school.

Those Ravenclaws knew how to hold a grudge, especially if it involved their academics.

"I know they came together as friends, but like you, Rose, he can do _so_ much better."

She continued to chew and nod along until—wait a second. "Wike mwe?"

Lily frowned. "It's no wonder you can't keep a serious boyfriend."

"Vat's _dat_ sufpoosed—" Rose held up one finger and quickly swallowed the cake before she tried again. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

She highly doubted that.

Lily rested her elbow on the table and laid her cheek against her fist. "Speaking of Scorpius, I've been wondering something all night…" Ah, here it was. The moment Rose would finally find out why she had to endure excruciatingly long minutes of _Lily torture._ She gave her cousin an expectant, 'go on' look. It was probably another one of her inane questions about Scorpius. She'd been asking a lot of questions about him lately. "Well, do you think you could set us up?"

Rose looked all around, expecting to see James and his group of knuckleheaded friends hiding in various areas of the room, armed with Extendable Ears and laughing their arses off. When she didn't see anyone out of the ordinary, her mind kicked into overdrive. James must've Polyjuiced his sister, hid her, and was using her to get—no. That made no sense. Well, Rose hadn't worked that far into his dastardly plan, but that had to be it, right? Polyjuice _had _to be the reason why Lily was asking her to set her up with _Scorpius_, of all people.

Wait a second.

She wasn't stupid. James couldn't imitate _all_ of his sister's little quirks that annoyed Rose most. The way she flipped her hair and smiled, or the way her voice made her want to claw out her eyes.

Those things couldn't be faked.

So maybe she was part of the plan, after all. But why? And—

"Before you go all 'detective' on me, this is not some crazy plan my brother cooked up to throw you off balance." Lily assured. "I'm actually very serious. I like Scorpius. I like his hair, his personality, the way his lips pout—"

"Lips pout—say what?"

"Yes! And so much more. I've liked him for a while, but Al said he won't help me because he 'knows' Scorpius isn't interested." She rolled her eyes. "I figure with the new year coming, I could change the way he sees me. You could talk me up to him, and maybe—"

"Do _not_ say another word." This was one of the most bizarre conversations she'd ever had. It was right up there with the time mum had decided to use diagrams and flow charts to explain where babies came from. "Let me see if I understand this. You like Scorpius. Al refuses to set you up with him. And rather than approaching him yourself, you decide that pestering me for _sixteen minutes _would make me want to do you a favour? Do I understand this correctly?"

Lily smiled. "Perfectly!" Clearly, she was under the heavy delusion that Rose was her buddy, confidante, and sidekick in all matters amatory. "Now," she continued. "I was thinking that you could start talking about my best attributes—"

"Are you in_sane?!_"

She was almost certain that a relationship between Scorpius and Lily went against one of the natural precepts of the universe; or broke one of the golden friendship rules that said: _Friends don't let friends date Lily Potter._ Rose briefly wondered what drugs were pumping through Lily's system to even make her _think_ that she would be a good match for him.

"What do you mean?" Lily looked confused.

Rose pointed at herself, like maybe there was a chance that someone else was sitting next to her that she hadn't noticed…and Lily was talking to them. "You want _me_ to—"

"Set me up with Scorpius. We've been through this already."

After blinking at her for several moments, Rose sat back in her chair and said nothing. While Lily used the strange silence that followed to make sure that her hair was perfect and hum along to the awful song playing, Rose scanned the room for a champagne tray, but found something that brought a relieved smile to her face. It was salvation, in the form of Scorpius Malfoy, walking towards the table, armed with two glasses of champagne. Bless him. She was determined to put Lily's request out of her mind and enjoy the evening, but first….

As soon as Scorpius set the flutes down, Rose picked them up and guzzled them down in a flash.

"I was planning on drinking both of them." Scorpius informed her.

Stingy beast. "Sorry, but my needs were greater than yours. Trust me."

He started to argue, but something caught his attention. Rose followed his line of vision to Lily, who looked like a jungle cat on the prowl. Of course, she'd seen that look several times before, but it was only now that she understood what it meant. Oh, shit. Rose jerked her head to him. Oh, _buggering_ shit.

Scorpius' eyebrow came out of hiding from behind black-rimmed glasses. "You know, I just might." He cleared his throat. "Are you all right, Lily? You look hungry."

"I am hungry, but not for food." Lily gave him her best seductive look, which actually made her eyes look like they were about to pop out of her head. Rose was waiting for her to snap her teeth at him, but something better happened. Lily had the nerve to ask, "Aren't you hungry, Scorpius?"

An incredulous bemusement twisted his features. "I'm a vegetarian."

Naturally, Rose's face turned bright red as she strained not to laugh. Lily was still smiling, which meant she didn't fully understand and that made it all the better. Scorpius had a talent of cutting someone down without them realising it. He'd inherited what Aunt Ginny called 'the Malfoy drawl' and it made everyone focus on his tone instead of his words. If they had paid any attention, they would notice that his sarcasm was often as dry as the desert with twice the venom of a snake.

He would've done well in Slytherin with her.

"Henrietta, Al, and I were discussing the relationship between Arithmancy and Muggle Probability. She seems to think there are no significant similarities and I thought you might have an opinion."

Or maybe not.

"You're seriously having a discussion about _numbers_ at a party? Don't get me wrong, I love everything about numbers, but there's a time and a place for everything…and this isn't it."

Scorpius smirked. "Actually, they were debating it. I was more than happy to stand there and commit the sight of you running away from that bloke to memory."

Rose stuck out her tongue, which only made his smile widen.

And to think she considered _him_ as her best friend. She folded her arms petulantly, but inwardly cringed. _Best friend_. She never did like the label. It was immature and created a strange possessiveness, which diminished the intensity of the feelings of loyalty involved in a friendship as close as theirs. 'Best friend' was okay to say when she was ten, but Rose felt it lost its linguistic fervour as she aged.

"I'll have you know that I'm a lot more socially graceful than you think," she informed haughtily.

He blinked. "You're about as socially graceful as a—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence if you want to live."

She never understood their friendship, but never questioned it because she was a believer in 'whatever works'. She and Scorpius? They worked. Where she was belligerent and restless, he was easy-going and patient. Rose often resented the stigmas and expectations that came with being a Weasley, but there were a lot more that came with being a Malfoy and Scorpius seemed unaffected. Over the years, she'd adopted his way of thinking...and it made things easier for her. One of the best things about Scorpius was that he was intelligent without being pretentious, reserved without being dull, and one of the few people her age who knew that an ostrich's eye was bigger than its brain.

"Where's Al?"

"Somewhere around here with Henrietta. Come on, we'll dance, then we'll go find them." He reached for her hand, she offered the other, and let him pull her from the seat. Unfortunately for Rose, Scorpius' tug was a bit hard and it sent her clumsily crashing into him. Her forehead hit his chin and she caught a whiff of his cologne_—_something spiced and warm.

"_Ow!_" Rose rubbed her head, frowning. "Were you _trying_ to knock me senseless?"

"I didn't know you had sense in the first place."

She blew raspberries at him. "Ha, ha. Really funny, Rock-chin."

He flashed a typical, relaxed-Scorpius grin. "I try my best." Rose punched him in the arm as hard as she could, which caused him to wince and glare. "That actually hurt. Do it again and I'll leave your violent arse here."

Unrepentantly, she cackled on.

That was until he mouthed the two words that silenced her. _"With her."_

Rose pouted. "If I'd known eight years ago how evil you _really_ were I'm not sure I would have befriended you."

"You befriended me? How quickly we forget things—"

"Blah, blah, blah," she cut him off while making faces. "It's my birthday, and I _refuse_ to hear the story about how I was some charity case you spent time with on a whim of kind-heartedness."

"That's what happened!"

"Exactly, only _Al_ was sick with Spattergroit during your visit to the Burrow before third year. Your dad was out of the country, and your mum wasn't even an option, so you were stuck with nothing to do but read your books and be pestered by James and Lily. And _I_—on a whim of kind-heartedness—saw your anguish," at that, he rolled his eyes, "and begged my parents to take you in like a stray so that I could introduce your _deprived _arse to the wonderful world of Muggle movies."

"I like my version better." Scorpius ran a hand through his medium blond hair.

Rose quietly thought that it should be a crime for a bloke to have better hair than her. "I bet you do, probably because it doesn't involve you sniffling at the end of—"

He covered her mouth. "For the last time, I have allergies!"

She rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could.

"I think," he let go of her mouth. "We should take this argument out on the—"

"Or maybe, I could step in for you again, Rose," Lily piped in. "Like I did last time."

Rose had _completely_ forgotten that she was still sitting there. She looked over her shoulder to address her, but snapped her mouth shut when she saw her messy-haired cousin lounging in the chair next to his sister. Just _where_ had Al come from? A strange feeling tried to rise in her chest, but she stopped it by smiling brightly. "Al! How long have you been sitting there?"

"Since 'Rock-chin'."

"Where's Henrietta?" Scorpius asked, briefly looking around.

"I still believe _you_ should know that." Rose poked him in the chest. "She's _your_ date, after all."

He straightened his glasses. "Well, I've been here with—"

"Actually," Albus interjected. "She wanted to help Uncle George prepare the midnight fireworks."

Rose laughed. "Only because Scorpius is such a crummy date."

Before he could retort, the crowd of conversing guests parted, and out of it emerged her father. The look on his face was very Rose-oriented—a mix of frustration, affection, and worry with a bit of blind optimism thrown in sparingly for luck. She'd already seen it twice tonight and wanted no part in whatever was going on.

_Especially_ if it had something to do with her.

Rose considered diving under the table, but she wasn't in the mood to hand Scorpius and Al another thing to make fun of her about. Besides, she didn't want to ruin her dress. Rose had dedicated more than enough time and energy to manipulating—wait, _convincing _the clerk at La Femme Boutique to sell the overpriced black and cerulean robes to her for only four Galleons.

After releasing a resigned sigh, Rose waved at her dad.

He gave her a rather harried smile and gestured for her to come over. Rose frowned, excused herself, and went to him. Her dad kissed her on the temple, which reluctantly brought a smile to her face. Rose was—and always would be—a daddy's girl, at least until the end of eternity. It was quite pathetic. "C'mon, Rosie Posey—" at that she glowered while he just beamed. "Your mum wants to talk to you."

"Not that I mind an excuse to get away from this terrible music or out of letting Scorpius embarrass me on the dance floor, but what's going on?"

"Not here." When the song changed and the sound of Daisy Bladvak singing yet another Christmas song filled the room, Dad made the face he always made when mum bought him sugarless candy. "The music _is_ terrible, isn't it?"

"Terrible doesn't even begin to cover it," she balked. "It made me consider ritualistic suicide. _Twice_."

He paused, mid-step. "Don't let your mum, Lily…or _anyone_ hear you say that."

"I, at least, have _some_ tact, dad. Give me some credit."

"Key word: some."

He had a point. That much she couldn't argue. "Okay, how's this? I promise that for the rest of the night, I won't say anything rude—"

"Or sarcastic."

She rolled her eyes and repeated with a sigh, "Or sarcastic."

"Good." He wrapped his arm around his daughter and hugged her against him as they walked out of the tent and into the Burrow.

Silent moments between them were rare, but this was almost peaceful and reflective. Rose found herself rewinding her day; past the bantering with Scorpius, past being trapped with Lily, and past the beginning of the New Year's party of doom. She stopped it during the hour she'd spent with her family, opening gifts.

It was the best part of the day.

By the time she'd finished opening gifts, she had a dozen cards with Gringott's deposit receipts, a knitted scarf from her grandmother, another fifty Galleons from Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry that would be used to purchase her very first sofa and coffee table, books from Albus, two movies from Hugo, a remote that ran on magic from the ever-practical Scorpius, a watch made from butterbeer caps from Mrs. Luna, and two front row tickets to a Daisy Bladvack concert from Lily.

Truthfully, it had been a pretty good day. No one had pulled her aside for the 'I'm worried about you, Rose' talk, dad had only given her 'the look' three times (a record), and mum hadn't given her the third degree for quitting her job in Floo Regulations.

Life was good.

It all changed when she stood in the doorway of the drawing room where her mum sat with that therapist look on her face. After checking the room for copies of Pea Soup for the Witch's Soul, she crossed the threshold, confident that this was no intervention.

"Come on in," her mum said in a very nurturing tone.

Rose instantly had a flashback to the night she'd announced that she was dropping out of Auror Academy…six months into the program. Her memories skipped back further to when she was nine and dreamed of being a famous ballerina, much to her dad's horror. It had lasted for six weeks, precisely when she realised how fucked up their feet were. And then there was the time she—

Mum cleared her throat, patting the seat next to her. The worst seat in the entire room.

Of course, Rose eyed the recliner, but her dad quickly plopped down and started playing with the lever, which earned him a stern glare from her mum. She tried not to giggle.

"Come sit." With a reluctant sigh, Rose dragged herself across the room, sat down, and picked at her cuticles until her mother's hand covered hers. "Rose, let's talk."

There wasn't much she could do in this situation. "Okay…"

And then her mum looked at her dad. "Would you like to take the lead on this, Ron?"

To which he replied with reclining the chair as far back as it would go.

"I'll take that as a no—"

"A _hell_ no, actually."

Dad always knew just what to say to set mum off, and effectively take all the attention off of Rose. She, of course, didn't mind. And she didn't mind their squabbling, either. Yes, squabbling. It wasn't fighting, per se. They never really _fought_ in the traditional sense of the word. Fighting involved the hurling of hurtful words, and according to _everyone_, they'd done enough of that when they were younger.

"Just _once_ it would nice if you took some initiative…."

Still, listening to them was like watching two tree sloths race: amusing, absolutely, but Rose never really learned the purpose. Like now. Mum was criticising him because he wasn't taking initiative, but it wasn't in his nature to do such a thing. And for her to carp now was sort of like fussing at the sun after getting sunburned. Rose was far from the most observant person in the world, but she knew that dad was about as laid-back as they came. He supported mum, kept her from going off the deep end, but he never actively participated in her madness.

"I'm here, aren't I?" her dad pointed out. "I voted against this, remember? And here I am, so let's get on with it before we miss the countdown and fireworks."

"And the ringing in of the New Year is more important than our daughter?"

"Yes!" He then looked at Rose and said, "No offence, Rosie."

She shrugged. "None taken."

Her mum rolled her eyes. "Well, forgive _me_ for keeping you away from picking some young tart—"

With a smirk that looked sort of familiar, dad waggled his eyebrows and said, "I only have _one _witch on my midnight snog list. She's incredibly bossy and, not to mention, brilliant. She has bushy hair and—"

"Okay, _ew_," Rose covered her eyes. How sickening! "I can leave if you two would like to be alone."

"No. I have something for you." Her mother's cheeks were a little red when she presented her with a little box. When Rose started to question what was in it, she gently said, "Just open it. It's our gift to you."

So she did, and was instantly confused. She held the card up. "I know what this is, but for laughs, can someone please explain to me why there is a St. Mungo's identification card in this box?" Rose looked closer. "And where did you get this picture of me? It's ghastly!"

Naturally, her mother ignored her final question. "I pulled some strings and got you a job as a Healer's assistant—"

"You _what_?" Rose shrilled. "Better yet, _why_? I can't work at St. Mungo's!"

"Why not?" Her dad looked just as intrigued as her mum, which was not a good thing.

"Everyone knows that if you're not an experienced Healer, the shifts are long and the pay is unspeakably bad." She told them candidly. "Besides working there will cut into my allotted ravenous-reading, movie-marathoning, savvy-shopping, and aimless-alliterating time. And I just can't have that."

Her logical mother had to input with: "Well, aren't you always saying that you have to _try_ something for at least six months to really—"

Stubbornly, she folded her arms. "Not with this, I don't."

"You never know, you may like it," her dad inserted with a half-shrug.

"_Et tu, Brute?"_ Rose accused, the beginnings of a pout forming on her face. When he returned with a blank stare, she rolled her eyes. That wasn't going to work. Her mother was staring with a humoured gleam in her eyes that made Rose want to scream. "Argh! Mum, I appreciate this, but I'm actually certain that I won't like it. I hear enough horror stories from Scorpius as is."

Her mum's face lit up. "Ah, that's right! He just started two months ago! That's another reason why you should give this a shot." And when Rose just blinked, she added, "Didn't you want to be a Healer at some point?"

"When I was _seven_! I also wanted to be an astronaut, a reporter for The Daily Prophet, a comedian, a Potions Mistress, an archaeologist, a professor at Hogwarts, a _princess_, a deep sea diver, an Auror, a food critic, a ninja, an Obliviator, a photographer, a treasure hunter, the Minister of Magic, an inventor, a—"

"Didn't you want to be an architect?" Dad piped in.

"Until I realised I couldn't draw!" she shrilled.

He laughed. "You didn't even make it six months in cello lessons, either." And his smile faulted slightly, "Come to think of it, I can't think of _one thing_ you've kept up with longer than six months."

With an infuriating smile on her face, her mother patted her hand and said, "I have a proposition that will change that."

Rose didn't like the sound of that.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! A heartfelt 'thank you' goes out to drcjsnider and kate0404 for betaing this for me. This was written for the Birthday Prompt Challenge at The Dark Mark. Also this is my very first attempt at Next Gen _and_ Rose/Scorpius, and boy is it a scary leap having to admit in my writing that canon _actually_ happened *flails* But anyway, it's been fun so far. I intended on this to be a oneshot, but an idea popped into my head and then this _crazy_ plot bunny bit me. Let us pray that I make it through this alive as I'm SO far outside my comfort zone its not even funny. This story's genre is _really_ romance/mystery/drama/humor all rolled into one, but ffnet only let me pick two. Lame.

Also, as for their characterizations. I've read a bunch of Next Gen stories that have Rose and Scorpius as carbon copies of Draco and Hermione...I decided not to take this route. There is a lot of Ron in her and some of Hermione (with regards to her intelligence), but for the most part she's her own person. The same goes for Scorpius. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of Lily Potter II, but this story is _not_ going to bash her. As always, there is a method to my madness...and to her characterization. :)


	2. Lies And Recurring Dreams

_This conversation  
Information that you wanted me to share  
But I didn't want to be there  
So I'll grant you one wish that won't come true._  
**This Conversation is Over – Acceptance**

**Chapter Two — Lies and Recurring Dreams**

Scorpius wanted to travel the world. He wanted to visit the Kremlin in Russia, float along the waters of Venice in a gondola, stand in front of the statues on Easter Island, walk through the ruins of Pompeii, ponder the deeper meaning behind the design of the Zen Garden of Kyoto, and experience everything that was Reykjavik, Iceland.

It was strange for a Malfoy to have such dreams, but Aunt Daphne loved the idea. She often rambled about self-discovery and feeding the human soul with inspiration. Scorpius figured that her Elf-wine induced babblings were code for: _"Don't let your family force you to marry the first rich coot that throws Galleons around after the war or else you'll end up like me: miserable with too many children."_

Or something like that.

The rest of his family, however, were harder to convince. When Scorpius announced that he wanted to do some travelling, they all had incorrectly assumed that he would be using his trust to fund the trip. So when his father only regarded him with a raised eyebrow before he continued chewing on his steak, every one of his close relative got together and decided that since his father wasn't going to ask any questions, they would. They began bombarding Scorpius for details about accommodations, an organised agenda for each week of his travels, and thorough financial reports.

Ever since before he could remember, his entire family had been fanatical about making sure that he had enough sense to not squander the family's wealth after the elders were dead and gone. They also were completely obsessed with the idea of Scorpius marrying a high-class, pure-blooded witch from a powerful family.

Scorpius refused to even _think_ about that.

He figured they would relax when he explained that he wouldn't be using any of his trust money for his travels, but that knowledge only upset them more.

_"Malfoys always travel in style and never travel light,"_ his mother told him on her last visit as they walked the Manor's gardens. _"You simply cannot do that on your insufficient salary, Scorpius."_ He had half the mind to tell her that she hadn't been part of the family in years and that it was too late for her to start being his mother, but thought better. He loved his mother despite their rocky relationship and her many flaws.

Needless to say, talking to his family was one of those lose-lose situations that Father had told to him about. There was no point in trying to change any of their stubborn minds. The men in his family lived by strategy and logistics, the women had a hand in their husband's pockets but firm foothold on the ground, and _everyone_ always asked the question he hated most: _"Why?"_

And Rose always wondered why he was always so damn practical. Every time he dared to sway from the pragmatic and mundane, he could hear all their nagging voices in his head resonating, _"Why?"_

Logic and sensibility had been ingrained into his life since birth, and it worked well for him, but he'd learned that sometimes it was okay _not_ to have a plan for everything. When Scorpius explained that to his sensible grandmother, she had shook her head, as if dealing with an ignorant child, and chanted her personal motto: _"A structured life leads to less stress and more success."_

But as the countdown to the New Year started and anticipation all around him started to peak, Scorpius ignored Lily's batting eyelashes, casually shoved a grinning Albus, and disagreed.

_"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! …"_

He thrived on chaos, lived for the stress that came along with it, and loved every second of it. His most successful moments on the Quidditch pitch at school and as a Healer had been during moments of utter pandemonium when his heart threatened to hammer its way through his ribcage, and adrenaline rushed through his veins and raised the hair on the backs of his arms. And while pragmatism and sensibility provided stability and comfort, Scorpius felt more alive while counting down the seconds than he had in the last five hours.

_"Four! Three! Two! One! … Happy New Year!"_

The room erupted. Scorpius was blinded by a downpour of colourful confetti and nearly deafened by the sounds of drums and balloons that were charmed to pop to the Muggle tune, Auld Lang Syne.

It was a sensory overload at it's very finest, and he revelled in it.

However, the moment Al disappeared in the crowd, his sister went in for the kill….

When Scorpius turned seventeen, his father sat him down in his private study, poured him a glass of fine scotch, and said, _"Give a witch an inch and she thinks she's a ruler."_

It wasn't until he turned—nearly too late—to avoid starting the new year with his lips firmly attached to Lily's that Scorpius began to think that Father was right. Lily gave him a puzzled look, smiled, and tried again. That time, Scorpius held her at arm's length. "Look—"

"Oh, come on, Score!" She didn't notice when his jaw clenched involuntarily at that nickname. Lily was the only person who called him 'Score'. Well, Rose did, but only when she was actively trying to annoy him. "Live a little. Indulge in an old tradition!"

"Not all traditions need to be kept because of longevity."

And with that, Scorpius sidestepped her and made a clean exit.

After leaving Lily, everything was a blur of hugs and handshakes, hard pats on the back and pecks on the cheek. He waited until the tent was nearly empty before joining everyone outside for the fireworks display.

The temperature was chilly—albeit tolerable—and there was a hum of energy and magic in the air. It felt like the anticipation about the year to come and hope had collided and mingled before condensing into a casual atmosphere. As Scorpius made his way through the hordes of guests, he searched for a familiar face, but didn't find one until he emerged from the back of the crowd.

Henrietta was sitting on the grass, legs folded politely under her black dress robes. She regarded him with a warm smile and gestured for him to sit next to her. Thanks to several days without rain, the grass was dry and he sat without worrying about stains on his robes. They were nearly impossible to remove.

"I heard you snubbed Lily Potter," she said matter-of-factly, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears.

Scorpius frowned. "Where did you hear that?"

"From Al." she picked at an imaginary piece of lint from her dress. "Well, Al heard it from his mum, who heard it from Hugo, who heard it from _his_ grandmother, who actually saw the snub take place."

"I'm almost _certain_ that she has eyes in the back of her head."

Henrietta laughed. "And a proclivity for matchmaking. She's determined to see you with one of her granddaughters. Since you and Rose are such good friends, it makes sense that she would push you toward Lily."

Scorpius shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather walk over hot coals…or broken glass."

She snorted. "What's wrong with Lily? Besides the fact that she's…" He didn't understand why Henrietta was choosing her words so carefully. "Very much into herself."

He relaxed back on the palms of his hand. "There's nothing wrong with her. She's just not my type." Scorpius could almost hear the gears in her head churning and knew she was formulating a thought or question. He carefully changed the subject. "When are the fireworks supposed to start?"

"In a few minutes. I imagine they're almost finished setting up. So, why isn't she—?"

"She's just not," he clipped.

The problem was that Henrietta liked to dig into him with personal questions. As a Muggleborn, she found his lifestyle and upbringing incredibly interesting. And more than that, she thought of him as an enigma; a mystery, but Scorpius preferred not to be picked apart like a corpse before vultures.

He had a family that did that perfectly.

While in school, Scorpius used to talk to her freely, but his trust had waned when—on several occasions—he found her scribbling in her notepad after their conversations. It was especially unnerving when she started asking him to repeat what he'd said. It had never set well with the private wizard. He wasn't sure when, but Scorpius had constructed a 'Henrietta wall' around himself, restricting their conversations to more informal topics, such as academics or work.

"Al told me that you were helping set up."

"I was, but Lily came over and started taking her frustration with you out on everyone else, so I decided to excuse myself." Henrietta stared at him as if she were studying him before she calmly informed, "Al left to help Rose take her gifts home."

Scorpius couldn't help but notice how Henrietta's voice changed when she said Rose's name. He had always known that she didn't care for Rose; she'd never kept it a secret and Rose never really cared to notice. They butted heads about everything, probably because Henrietta was too conservative and Rose…well, _wasn't_. They were almost _too_ different to coexist. Scorpius secretly thought that Rose's nonchalant attitude and Henrietta's closed-mindedness had doomed them from the start.

"Apparently," she continued. "She left after a talk with her parents."

"I never pegged you as a gossipmonger, Henrietta."

"Gossip?" a familiar voice said from behind them. A _very_ familiar voice. Scorpius instinctively rolled his eyes before looking over his shoulder at Lily. Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Hugo Weasley was standing next to her, but he was busy talking to one of the Scamander twins—Scorpius could never tell them apart. "Who said something about gossip? I just love gossip!"

"It was nothing important, really." Henrietta smiled thinly.

"Pity," Lily sniffed and clasped her hands together. "So, we were walking around, trying to find the best place to watch the fireworks, and we—" Hugo cleared his throat and gave her a dirty look. Lily rolled her eyes. "Okay, I thought that this would be the perfect place."

_Of course she did_, Scorpius thought with another roll of his eyes.

"Well—" Henrietta started uncomfortably.

"Oh!" she covered her mouth. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything important."

Hugo snorted a little too loudly.

And while Scorpius fought back the urge to chuckle and Lily cut her eyes in her cousin's general direction, the Scamander twin and Henrietta exchanged confused looks.

"You weren't," he finally said after the awkward silence.

"Then you won't mind if we joined you?"

Henrietta opened her mouth, probably to tell her how much she minded, but Scorpius interrupted her smoothly. "You're more than welcome to join us." He stood and dusted the grass blades off his robes and straightened his gasses. "In fact, Lily, you can have my seat."

She blushed and sat down next to a blank-faced Henrietta. "But where will you sit?"

Scorpius gave her his very best smile and replied, "Right next to you…when I return."

But he never did.

**ooo**

People—namely his entire family, Henrietta, and most of the Ravenclaws from their year—had always asked him, _"Why Rose Weasley? Why in the hell are you friends with_ her_?"_

And Scorpius always responded with, "Why _not_ Rose?"

She was different from everything he knew—everything in which he was accustomed. Scorpius' life was the epitome of structured and formal, but Rose…. If it was possible to be so enigmatic and _interesting_ that people watched you and paid Galleons to read about your adventures in magazines all over the country, _that_ was Rose.

People who didn't know Rose loved her, while the people who knew her best worried about her. He never quite understood the basis for their concerns. Yes, she possessed an active imagination and a penchant for the dramatics, but she also had a wicked sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Sure, she had abysmal taste in books and quit more jobs than he could count on his fingers _and_ toes, but Rose was savvy and firm…when she wanted to be. People judged her almost as much as they judged him, but they underestimated her far more.

Why _wouldn't_ he want to be her friend?

He could always count on her to have something smart to say and to burn the first bag of popcorn on, well, _any_ night.

So, Scorpius wasn't too surprised when, upon entering her flat after leaving the party, he was greeted by the smell of charred popcorn and the sound of her voice.

"You are being _completely_ unreasonable, microwave!" Rose passionately raved. "If it weren't for the fact that you make popcorn taste so much better, I would've tossed you out! I saved you, and this is how you repay me!?"

He shook his head, loosened his tie, and removed his jacket, fanning himself. Rose had an aversion to being cold and kept her thermostat set on 'hell' during the winter months. He tossed his jacket on the back of her transfigured sofa and looked around. Her entire flat was small and desperately needed more furniture, but it was attractive and cosy. She'd picked the flat for the hardwood floors and the gallery-style kitchen that she barely used. Oh, and low rent, which shouldn't have been able to attain a car park in East Finchley.

Exactly how she managed that feat, he wasn't sure.

Al remained convinced she Confounded everyone, to which she replied with, _"When you're as persuasive as I am, you don't need magic." _

Scorpius snorted.

Rose let out an aggravated yell. "If putting in a bag of popcorn for two and a half minutes, and adding thirty seconds cooks it perfectly, then putting it in for three minutes shouldn't burn it!"

It also didn't help that Rose had a love/hate relationship with her kitchen appliances.

"This is a conspiracy! You want to keep me from my popcorn, but I won't let you! You will not win because I will not go quietly into the night!"

Scorpius could always tell her frustration level by what movie line she quoted. The older the movie, the more upset she was. A thirty year old movie quote, while bad, was completely manageable…with a little intervention. "I don't think the microwave cares, Rose."

"Because it's a—" There was a pause. "Wait a second." And Rose's head peeked out of the kitchen. There was a puzzled look on her face. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"Why aren't you at the party?" he retorted, giving her a pointed stare.

"I didn't want to see the fireworks," Rose replied rather flippantly and returned to the kitchen. As he followed her, he could hear the sound of her tossing the bag of popcorn into the rubbish bin. "Once you've seen one, you've seen them all."

Scorpius crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching her awkwardly muddle around the small kitchen. She'd changed into more comfortable clothes: a hot pink polka dotted shirt, black shorts, and bright yellow knee-high socks. "You're a terrible liar."

Rose opened another bag of popcorn and put it into the microwave. She pressed a button and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "I'm actually quite good. _You're_ just too observant. The truth is," she sighed. "I wasn't in the mood for fireworks."

"Because of the talk with your parents?"

She frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"Henrietta."

"Never pegged her for a gossipmonger."

Scorpius smirked. "Neither did I."

"The talk had nothing to do with me leaving. In fact, the talk wasn't so bad after all. I have a feeling that this will be the last intervention that my mum orchestrates."

"I highly doubt that."

The timer on the microwave went off and Rose went to retrieve her bag of popcorn. She shook the bag and patted the top of her microwave. "Actually, it will be. You see, my mum made me a proposition." Scorpius quirked an interested brow. "She got me a job as a Healer's assistant to some witch named…" Rose trailed off thoughtfully. "What _was_ her name, again? Blossom? No. Marigold? No. Shoshanna?"

He rolled his eyes. When it came to names, Rose had the memory of a goldfish.

Tapping her cheek with her finger, Rose tilted her head to the side. "Hmm…Shoshanna? I don't think that's right. I know it was some floral name, but I can't remember."

Scorpius snorted.

Rose held up the bag of popcorn. "Want some?"

He declined. "It always gets stuck in my teeth."

"You and your precious teeth." She rolled her eyes and walked past him. "You sound like my mum when she tried to give me a bag kernel-less popcorn. Please explain the purpose of popcorn without kernels, because I just don't get it!"

"Did you know that in Mexico, Muggle medicine men would throw the kernels into an open fire and tell the future according to their 'popping direction'?" He followed Rose to her sparsely furnished sitting room and sat on the sofa while she searched her bookshelf for a movie.

Rose just looked over her shoulder and blinked. "How did you _know_ that?"

"Muggle Studies."

"But you didn't even take it. I did! For the easy 'O'."

"Didn't you get an—"

"We _all_ know that Professor Clovenhoove had it out for me. I swear, you make up one story about Muggles and no one ever lets you live it down."

Scorpius smiled. "What movie are we watching?"

_"The Sword of Deception."_

Groaning, he rested his head back on the hard cushion. "Not again." Rose was going through a foreign language movie phase, which meant that she picked one movie with subtitles and watched it repeatedly.

For weeks, he'd been forced to watch the story of a sword forged by a psychotic blacksmith and a dark wizard that gradually possessed the mind of the king who wielded it. They watched him build his empire and destroy himself in the process. Of course, Rose wasn't drawn to the movie because of the obvious deeper meaning of the film. She just liked the sword fights. And Scorpius couldn't lie. He'd enjoyed the fights _and_ the lessons the movie had taught…the _first_ time he'd seen it. However, after nine times, he was ready to blow up the disc.

"But it's such a good movie! I personally like—"

"How one chance encounter can steer a good king on the path to destruction? How he starts to realise something is wrong with this sword and starts trying to save his humanity? Or how he throws himself into the volcano to save everyone from the sword?"

"None of that, really. I liked it when he chopped that man in half. That was cool." Rose dug into the cushions of the sofa for the remote and made herself comfortable by draping her legs over his lap.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, but never fussed.

"By the way, you never told me what the proposition was."

"Well, you kept getting me off topic." She poked him in the arm playfully. "Anyway, the proposition is simple. I'm going to take this job at St. Mungo's. And if I somehow manage to _not_ quit in the next six months and _one_ day, she'll leave me alone about…well, _everything_."

He straightened his glasses. "What happens if you lose?"

"I go back to the Auror Academy," Rose replied with a look of distaste on her face.

"But you hated it."

There was a determined gleam in her eyes when she said, "Which is precisely why I'm going to win." Still, Scorpius had his doubts, but Rose continued before he could voice them. "Another motivator is that my parents are going to give me an extra hundred Galleons every two weeks."

"Why?"

"Because being a Healer's Assistant doesn't pay enough for me to stay in my flat. And since my parents and I agree that me moving back home is not the answer, they're going to give me an extra two hundred Galleons every month—"

"That's nearly a thousand pounds, Rose! Your rent is—"

"I know that, and so do my parents. It was their suggestion. In fact, they started at four hundred Galleons and I had to talk them out of that ridiculousness. I think this is their way of putting extra money in my pockets so I can actually _furnish_ this place and stop "living risky", as my mum calls it. I would've argued it down further, but she had that look in her eye and I figured that further resistance was futile."

Once Rose started the dreaded movie, Scorpius thought about more about the proposition her parents had offered.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if either could hold up their end of the bargain. Contrary to Rose's beliefs, she and her mother were a lot alike. Besides being intelligent, stubborn, and resourceful, they both were ambitious…in different ways. There were two types of ambition: temporary and blind. Rose's ambition was temporary. She put her everything into something until she grew tired of it and quit. However, her mother's ambition was blind, which was the more dangerous of the two because the word 'quit' wasn't in her vocabulary.

Rose was under the impression that this proposition would be the end of a war they'd fought since she graduated from Hogwarts, but he knew that it was only the beginning.

**ooo**

Scorpius always had the same dream.

He couldn't remember much about it; just the feelings it elicited. He knew that he was on a beach with black sand, and he was never alone. In the four years he'd had this dream, not once had he ever seen her face. Still, Scorpius couldn't ignore the feeling that he knew her…from somewhere. And even when he felt himself waking up, he could still feel that satisfied sensation she elicited from him.

It was like he'd drunk a glass of water, unaware that he was even thirsty, and it hit the spot. That was what the dream was for him; whomever he was with just hit the spot.

Scorpius grunted when he opened his eyes. Sunrays were sneaking in through a small opening in the window shade and landing on his face. He stretched his arms up, engulfed in the cottony feel of the blanket, and his eyes started to adjust to the light. Scorpius didn't even panic about where he was.

He just _knew_.

What he didn't know was what the hell had happened. One minute he was listening to Rose ramble about the movie, and the next his neck was reciting a tale of uncomfortable sleep. Scorpius stretched his arms over his head again, trying to rid himself of stiffness. Then, he rolled on his side and his arm hit flesh. In reciprocation, a hand swung out and hit him in the face. Scorpius gave her a shove. "Stop hogging the bed, Rose."

"It's _my_ bed…so shut up…you ingrate," the body next to him muttered, heavy with sleep. "It's way…too early…for this…shit."

"Why am I in your bed?"

Rose groaned, sat up, and whacked him with the pillow she had been sleeping on. He snatched the pillow and threw it on the floor. "Because _someone_ fell asleep and furniture transfigurations only last oh-so long. So, I levitated you in here. You're lucky we're mates. If you were anyone else, I would've left your arse in there."

She wasn't lying.

"You sleep like the dead and your glasses are on the bedside table," she informed, looking at the clock on her bedside. "And we have exactly one hour before we have to be at my aunt and uncle's for New Year's brunch."

Squinting, he found his glasses and put them on. "What time is it?"

"Just past eleven."

"I should—"

The doorbell sounded.

"Who in the hell…" Rose, who was missing a sock and looked extremely dishevelled, clumsily forced herself out of the bed. "I swear, if the person on the other side of the door has the last name of Weasley or Potter, I'll hex them good," she muttered viciously as she went to answer the door.

Scorpius yawned and scanned the room for his socks and shoes. He found them against the wall. He was in the middle of putting his second sock on when he heard a very familiar voice say, "Nice look, Rosie. You look like you got struck by lightning."

And then he heard her punch him somewhere.

"Call me Rosie one more time, Al, and I'll kick your arse."

"Empty threats, Rosie—_OW!_ That actually stung a bit."

Scorpius snorted a little too loudly as he walked to the doorway of her bedroom.

"What was that?"

He made his presence known. "That would be me laughing at your dumb arse."

Albus made a face. "At least I know why you never came home last night." He then looked at them both, smirked, and wiggled his eyebrow suggestively. "What were you two up—?"

Rose smacked him in the back of the head. "You perv!" He winced and cut his eyes at Scorpius who was snickering. "We just watched movies…or rather, _I_ watched a movie and Scorpius did a very good impression of a coma patient." She huffed. "I reopened the Floo, so scram. I have to get dressed."

And with that, Rose walked past them and into her room, closing the door behind her.

Scorpius walked past his best friend and into the sitting room where he picked up his tie and jacket. He had a feeling that Albus wanted to say something that he couldn't say around Rose, and didn't have to wait long.

"What _really_ happened? Rose closed her Floo."

He turned to his best friend. "Exactly what she said. I came here from the party, we started to watch a movie, and I fell asleep. Nothing more." Scorpius explained coolly. "Oh, and Rose _always_ closes her Floo at night. It's to stop people from barging in before she wakes up."

With a shake of his head, his best friend ran a hand through his messy hair. "So you're going to do this for another year?"

Scorpius was starting to get a bit testy. "Do what?" He knew exactly what Albus was talking about, but preferred to play stupid.

"_Lie_." Before he could snappishly retort, Albus gave him a shove towards the Floo. "Just so you know, I told Lily and everyone that you got sick and went home. So don't worry about getting a high-heeled shoe to the face today."

"Don't worry, I wasn't."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! A heartfelt 'thank you' goes out to **drcjsnider** for betaing this for me. It was oddly hard to write. *glares at Scorpius* He wasn't being all that nice to me.


	3. Pink Robes

_Now it's Monday morning,_  
_I'm still yawning_  
_Scuffing down the city street_  
_Heading for the clock on_  
_Bought a 'Daily Record' like a real man_

_Well I made it to the real world_  
_But I'm not living in the real world_  
**I'm Not Living In The Real World - Belle and Sebastian**

**Chapter Three – Pink Robes**

The first warning started as a steady chirp, like a hungry baby bird. Not bad, but loud enough to draw Rose from her already fleeting dreams. She scowled, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Ihateyoupleasedie." To which the alarm replied by getting louder.

It was that time again. Time to go to war with yet another inanimate object.

Despite its innocuous exterior and fifteen various nature sounds, her clock was pure evil and it was Rose's duty as a person who valued her sleep to silence it by beating it into submission. After a half-hearted fist pump of victory, Rose finally cracked an eye open to squint at the green numbers.

Five o'clock on a disgusting Tuesday morning, and here she was being forced out of bed to go to St. Mungo's and work for a witch with a too-common floral name that she still couldn't remember.

She couldn't help but groan at the unfairness of it all.

This is precisely when her clock decided to deliver a second, more insistent, wake-up call that sounded like an old 'air raid' siren. So much for the nature sounds.

Rose swore viciously. "I didn't even set you, demon!" She found the cord on sheer luck and ripped it from the wall before burying her head under the covers for a few minutes of extra sleep.

The silence lasted a moment before the alarm revved back to life, sounding less like an air raid and more like someone was attacking her flat. With cannons. And the Overture of 1812. It startled Rose so badly she fell out of bed. "_Son_ of a-" Using the bed as leverage, she got back to her feet and went on the attack. That time, nothing would silence it. It shrilled through her beatings and blared over her cursing. Not even a few well-aimed hexes would shut the abomination up.

"Fine!" she screamed in frustration. "I'm awake!"

And the clock fell silent.

"You are _so _being replaced. I know I've been threatening for years, but I've had enough of your—" Rose froze mid-rant and inhaled.

_Coffee._

It was coming from her flat and she hadn't even programmed the coffee-maker. Curiously, she grabbed her wand, and started creeping down the hall. She peered into sitting room. Everything was dark and silent, except the kitchen light was on and someone was humming merrily.

Oh.

Threat terminated, Rose used her wand to create a hideous bun for her hair and walked through the sofa-less sitting room. There was only one _person_ intelligent enough to get into her flat – through the blocked Floo – without setting off her wards; one _family member_ insane enough to be awake and humming _happily_ at this time of morning; one _parent_ wicked enough to give her a possessed alarm clock for Christmas when the Headmistress wrote about Rose's tardiness to her morning classes.

"Morning, mum."

Her mother sat at her small kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading over what looked like her daily itinerary while humming a now familiar tune. The Overture of 1812. She greeted her unkempt daughter with a raised eyebrow and a smile that she tried to hide behind her mug. "I do love a little Tchaikovsky in the morning."

"You are the worst." She flopped in the other chair, but straightened automatically when she received a look over the papers. "And I'm not even going to ask how you got in."

"Smart."

Rose sulked. "I'll have you know that not even dad can't even get through my wards."

"Your dad isn't me." Rose had an unsettling moment of disorientation, startled suddenly by how much her mother's quick, wicked smiled reminded her of her own. For years, she would baulk at anyone who mentioned how much she favoured her mum, never seeing their similarities until right then. It was disturbing. "Besides," Mum continued, blissfully unaware of Rose's thought process. "You seem to forget that I taught you everything you know about wards." With an effortless flick of her hand, she levitated the coffee pot and spelled it to pour Rose a fresh cup. She'd been trying to figure out how to do that for _years_, but mum wouldn't show her how because it would only _'promote further laziness on her part.'_

Unfortunately, she had a point.

Once the pot was back on its base, her mother asked, "Too much sugar and milk, right?"

"I take it black."

"Since when?"

_Since now,_ Rose silently answered, frowning at her own petulance. Mum had a way of making her feel twelve again…and completely inadequate. It wasn't on purpose; at least that was what dad had said. Her mother didn't think on the same plane as as normal people, and she had ridiculously high expectations for them.

So far, Hugo was living up to the expectations set for him with his art school and his study habits.

Rose? Not so much. Six N.E.W.T.s and no career plans wasn't exactly what her mother had planned for her eldest.

Frustration propelled Rose from her chair. "Forget it." She shuffled to her refrigerator, opening it with a resigned huff…and then she saw it. Surely, Rose was seeing things. No. Not in her refrigerator. Not in her flat. She slammed it shut and opened again, but it was still there. She shot her mother an accusing look. "Did you do this?"

Of course, she didn't even bat an eye, accustomed to Rose's dramatic outbursts. In a tone as dry as hot sand, her mother asked, "What, Rose?"

"There are healthy things in my refrigerator."

Which earned her an eyeroll. "And I'm reading a newspaper." At Rose's affronted glare, her mum's eyes widened innocently. "I thought we were playing that game where everyone states the obvious."

"No," Rose folded her arms, looking like she'd eaten a sour pickle. "I hate that game. I always lose." She then put her hands on her hips in an attempt to look more intimidating. Judging from the look on her mother's face, it wasn't working. "There are still green things in here."

"It's celery, Rose. You eat vegetables."

"Because you refused to give us sugar until we were old enough to buy it and now that I've had my taste of the good life, I refuse to go back to..." she paused to examine each item carefully. "Carrots, asparagus, and a bag of kale. Is that—" Rose blinked, then directed her pained expression at her mother. "There's a _squash_ in my refrigerator-"

"You're being serious. Right-?"

"I thought you _loved _me."

Mum refolded the paper, her tone as matter-of-fact as ever. "You're being dramatic and your refrigerator had no food."

She ignored that last part. "There was food."

"Old Treacle Tarts, chocolate pudding, and a tofu stir-fry Scorpius left yesterday to stop Albus from inhaling it during his post-work hunger rampage do not count as food."

"Dad would beg to differ. Wait. How did you-"

"There was a dated note that said _'Warning: Contains vegetables and tofu.'_" Her mother didn't miss a beat. "I'm reiterating common knowledge, but vegetables are good for you. They have vitamins and minerals."

Rose was too busy frowning at the baby carrots to hear her mother. "I can't believe you put kale in this refrigerator. They could have broken the poor machine."

"Well." She calmly sipped her coffee. "I'll have you know that this has been the most ridiculous conversation I've had since your dad tried to convince me that pushing Hugo into a _lake_ was an effective method to teach him how to swim and to cure his fear of water. Two birds, one stone."

Rose cringed. "I'm still trying to figure out how he's going to survive art school in Venice, of all places."

"He'll be fine," her mother waved her hand haphazardly. "Now back to you. Carrots-"

She quickly jumped back on the defence. "Turn your skin orange. How can anything that turns you its colour be healthy?" Rose shut the door to the refrigerator and opened the freezer. She pulled out a pint of ice cream, showcased it, and said, "Ice cream doesn't cause those sorts of problems."

"Because it causes others." Her mother shook her head. "It's amazing to me that you're not on a _'Parvati Patil: Weight Guru'_ special."

"Don't hate the metabolism, embrace it…and if all else fails, blame dad."

"Well, I'm just making sure that you're eating healthy now that you're not living at home. Lily was saying some interesting things about people who don't eat enough fruits and vegetables—"

Rose snorted as she put the ice-cream back into the freezer. "Lily looks like a praying mantis with her pointy elbows and...aren't they the ones who eat the males after mating?" She pondered for a moment. "Sounds about right."

She shuddered at the mental image of Lily eating Scorpius. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

Not if she could help it.

"Rose!"

"What?" At the tight look on her mother's face, she sighed. Rose knew very well that Mum fretted over the lack of love between her and Lily. It wouldn't bode well for her to throw that in her face. "Okay. I'll take back the praying mantis bit, but the rest is true. She needs to add carbs to her diet because I'm tired of her salivating over all the sweet treats at family functions. It's sad. Besides, I can't take nutrition tips from anyone who doesn't eat carbs. It's like taking duelling tips from a person who has never been in a fight." She went in the refrigerator, ignoring all the vegetables, and pulled out the milk. "I know you agree with me. You _love _pasta."

Her mother summoned the sugar out the cabinet. "I do agree, somewhat. Life is about balance, not the extremes. However, that doesn't mean that she's not right some respect. I'm just looking out for you; Lily is too, in a way."

Rose inwardly snorted. _Hardly. _"I know you have my best interests at heart, but honestly, there are better ways. What's next? Tofu noodles that you try to pass off as linguine? I will not be fooled by food trickery." Mum made a disgusted face. "Finally, something we can agree on."

The bit of tension in the room dissolved when mother and daughter started laughing together. Rose lived for little moments like this. When being in the same room as her mum didn't involve word games and trying to outmanoeuvre the smartest witch she'd ever known; when being around her was tolerable instead of excruciating. Her mother didn't say anything when Rose poured milk into her coffee until it was nearly white and added a few heaping teaspoons of sugar before stirring. She sipped and read the comics, giggling over her favourites, while Mum went back to reading the paper.

A few moment later, she mumbled, "Oh no."

"What mum?"

"William Savage died yesterday morning at St. Mungo's."

"Who?"

"William Savage. After the war, he trained new recruits for the Auror Department. He trained me when I first joined after graduating from Hogwarts. He tried to challenge me and didn't treat me like everyone else did, assuming that I knew everything from the start. I admired him for it. He taught me a lot."

"How did he die?"

"It says here that the cause of his death is undetermined."

Rose was confused. "But why was he in the hospital in the first place?"

"He came into contact with a powerful dark artefact during a raid." It was a vague response, which meant the case was still under investigation. "He should have died within hours, but they got him to St. Mungo's fast enough for Healers to slow down his deterioration. A few extra months was all he had, but he said he wanted to spend them with his family." Her mother shook her head, sadness clouding her eyes. "I guess he didn't make it."

Rose shifted in her seat, unsure of how to respond. There were two things that made her physically uncomfortable: anything involving Scorpius' family and displays of raw emotions. Both were messy and troublesome. She guzzled down her coffee with gusto, an escape plan already in the works. "I'm going to take a shower and get ready. My first shift is—"

Mum folded the paper abruptly, all traces of sadness eradicated by a burst of excitement. "In a few hours, I know. That's why I'm here."

"Erm." That was creepy. "I just figured you were here to wake me up and infect my refrigerator."

"That, too, but I wanted to make you a hearty breakfast and drive you to work. Doesn't that sound like a great idea?"

"Will saying no change anything?"

"Not in the least."

"Thought so."

Her mother's idea of a hearty breakfast was a fibre-filled oat bran cereal concoction she'd invented when Rose was a child. It tasted like dried leaves and cardboard, and the piece of avocado on the side didn't make the meal any better. Rose hated avocados. They were tasteless and oily, which completely defied the law of fruit.

So naturally, she waited until her mother wasn't looking before she tossed the avocado out and dumped as much sugar into the bowl as possible, but it did very little to improve the taste of the cereal. The first crunching bites took her back over ten years when she used to force-feed it to the cat, and then Hugo when the cat started having diarrhoea.

"It will keep you full until lunch."

"I fo dat," Rose mumbled with a full mouth as she crunched on a particularly hard mouthful. Her jaw was hurting. Finally, she swallowed. "Too bad it tastes like wood."

"It's not that bad. It should be really sweet for you. After all, you've dumped half the sugar canister into it." Her mouth fell open in shock. How had she seen? As if answering her question, her mum tapped her temple as if to remind her that she knew everything. Bugger. "So the flavour—"

"Even with the mountain of sugar, if you lick a dirty table, you'll get an approximation of the flavour."

"Well, your brother loves it. And Scorpius, too."

Rose snorted. "They wouldn't know good food if it slapped them. Hugo is...Hugo. And Scorpius is all about anything that will, and I quote, _'keep my body as sharp as my mind.'_ I weep for his children."

"Har, har. Finish up and go get dressed. What time does your shift start?"

She glanced at the clock. "Two hours from now."

"Doesn't hurt to be early."

**ooo**

Actually, it did.

Rose's frown had deepened to a scowl by the time her mum pulled up outside St. Mungo's visitor's entrance an hour later. It was still dark enough for lamp posts and headlights, but dawn was coming and the city was showing signs of life. A few Muggles bustled by in a rush to get out of the cold, a few cyclist zipped past, and the restaurant across the street flipped on their open sign. Rose's stomach growled at the mere thought of a delicious fry-up with hash browns. _Real food._

But first, there was the matter of her still-chattering mother.

Rose had a sneaking suspicion that Mum only used one of her endless number of holidays to make sure she was out of her flat on time. Not that she had anything to worry about. The sodding alarm made sure she was out of bed and positively _violent_.

Still, her mother spent half the short trip going on about how it was nice to do normal things together and Rose had to bite her tongue to stop from saying, _'driving your twenty-one year old to work is not normal in any country.'_ She zoned out after her mum mentioned how _'exciting'_ this was for the sixth time. It was like she was trapped in a bad after-school specials. At nearly seven in the morning.

"Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Thanks, but no."

"I thought about us going to dinner tonight. Hugo leaves this weekend and we can celebrate your new job—"

"That you got me."

"Semantics," she hand waved Rose's argument away. "Oh! We could go to that new restaurant in Diagon Alley. The Cove, I think? It's gotten great reviews."

"You're forgetting that I'm no food snob. Only you and Hugo care about that sort of thing. Dad will eat anything so long as it's edible and I just hope it's not one of those restaurants where they try to pass off a sliver of salmon and tiny red potato as an entire meal. I always end up attacking the first food vendor I see. Once day that tactic is going to get me arrested, or worse, _banned_."

Her mother snorted out a laugh. "Nice to see that you have your priorities in order."

"Isn't it?" Rose flashed a grin and fixed the top button of her brown coat. "Besides, we should probably postpone that dinner until tomorrow. I'm going furniture shopping with Scorpius after his shift is over. He's threatening to Vanish my telly if I don't at least buy a sofa. Something about bring tired of the vanishing furniture." She shrugged.

"It's about time."

She rolled her eyes and opened the car door, shivering a little in the crisp London morning. Still, it had nothing on Scotland. "Funny, funny. We probably will be done around...seven?"

"Well, just bring Scorpius along. Your dad and I don't mind."

After a half-heared "I'll ask," Rose closed the door and walked slowly toward the building. Her mum beeped twice before she drove off. She waited until the car was out of sight before walking to the little restaurant and indulging in a second breakfast. It was much better than the first.

Full and happy, Rose made her way back.

Her frown returned when she realised that her day was only beginning.

Scorpius once told a roomful of people that the act of Rose walking into St. Mungo's on her own volition would be a sure sign of the impending apocalypse. She allowed that nugget of hope to linger as she stood in front of Purge and Dowse, the location of her new prison—oh wait, her new _job_.

Bet or no bet, if she'd remembered just how much she loathed this place, Rose would have never agreed to mum's terms. Her hatred of St. Mungo's started when she thirteen when James had mixed over a hundred Puking Pastilles into her jar of jelly beans as a prank. He wanted to convince her that she was allergic to candy so she would give him the extensive collection that she kept hidden from mum.

What he hadn't expected was for her to go on a jelly bean binge following a particularly nasty argument with Scorpius and Al. He also hadn't expected for the antidotes to not work, which caused her to vomit almost non-stop for just under two of the worst weeks of her life while a cure was brewed. She didn't know which was worse: the Medi-witch from the Muggle Ailments department who kept getting sick when she came in to change her fluid bag, or the emergence of James' guilty conscience which caused him to stand against the wall across the room and stare at her with _'forgive me'_ eyes.

It was all extremely disturbing.

But then Rose remembered that neither were as bad as Uncle Harry, who had sat at her bedside while she was vomiting into a bucket and said, _"History repeats itself in the strangest of ways,"_ with an amused chuckle.

Rose made sure to puke on him before he left.

"You're supposed to talk to it, not stand there and stare," came an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice from behind her. She detected a bit of humour in the stranger's voice, and annoyance crept up her spine.

Pivoting, she rested her hand on her hips. "Thanks for the advice, but I really don't need any—" Of course, it all dissipated the moment she saw the speaker. "Help." She had no face, just thick blonde bangs that covered her eyes and bright pink lipstick. Rose briefly wondered if she swept her hair aside long enough to pick out her clothes. No. She probably didn't. Bangs wore a harsh blend of bright colours and Muggle winter wear that threatened to set her corneas on fire.

Yet, all Rose could do was stand, stare, and blink in amazement. There was someone on this planet stranger than Mrs. Luna. They _had_ to be related. Third cousins, or something.

Her hot pink lips spread into a smile, revealing a smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. Rose started to tell her, but Bangs started talking again. And, well, she couldn't interrupt that, now could she? "Sorry, mate. I'm used to lost people. I forget that sometimes people just want to stand and absorb their atmosphere before they enter."

Rose patted her hair nervously. "Absorb isn't exactly the term I'd use…"

"Aww, you must be an ickle Firstie."

Blinking slowly, she tilted her head slightly to the side and asked, "An ick—what?"

"A Firstie. That's what I call people who are coming here for the first time, whether it's as a patient or an employee. Which are you?"

She briefly thought about not answering her question honestly, but decided against it. "An employee. It's also not my first time here."

"Even better." Rose didn't like her ominous statement one bit, but didn't have a chance to say anything else because Bangs swept her hair aside for the first time, allowing Rose to see her eyes. The fact that they were blue was the _third_ thing she noticed. The first two were her bright purple eye-shadow and thick mascara. She reached into her big, rainbow-coloured bag and extracted a flowery clip to keep her bangs out of her face. "My name is Jane."

Which was a remarkably boring name for such a strange person in Rose's opinion so she mentally christened her 'Bangs' for the foreseeable future, or at least until she could think of something better.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and stared for a few uncomfortable moments before she finally asked, "Would your last name be Weasley?"

Rose sighed. "Yes."

"You're _the_ Rose Weasley?"

She blinked. "Um."

"Of the Rose Weasley Ward for Muggle Ailments?"

"Oh, _that_."

Mum had a habit of giving strange birthday gifts. This past birthday, Rose had been given a job. Last year, she'd gotten Rose's lifetime ban from Madam Maulkin's lifted. Not that she cared. When Rose turned eighteen, she'd been gifted a deodorizer block for her refrigerator that would last until the end of time. All those strange gifts had started when she was five. Instead of getting a doll or a toy like years previous, her mother had donated an enormous sum of money to St. Mungo's for a ward to treat Muggle ailments and named it after her.

"_You'll be remembered forever. Who cares about material things when you're helping people?"_

Rose cared, not that it mattered.

Bangs bounced on the balls of her feet with excitement. "Isn't it just cool that I get to meet the person named after the ward I stayed in for two weeks with a bad case of the flu?"

"Such a small world, it is." Rose smiled weakly and looked at the dummy in the window. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Creepy Top Hat?" She gestured for Bangs to walk through the entrance first and followed behind her.

Her mum had told her that St. Mungo's had undergone renovations a few years ago, so she pictured a warm, enveloping environment with a smaller, intimate side room that had a little Zen thrown in for good measure.

Not this.

It felt like the waiting area was decorated by a man who had just gone through a divorce. In the haze of his newfound freedom, he bought some nature prints that his wife would have hexed him over, slapped them on the walls, and spelled them to move. Then, he found some decorative objects for the tables—objects that Rose's little cousins could've designed in their sleep. More than likely, they were expensive as hell and had writing in invisible ink that read, "Mass Produced Crap that Only Dolts Like You Will Buy and Try To Pass Off as Ornamental." The best parts of the room were the bright lights and the music.

However, when Rose heard the voice on the Wireless announce that they were about to play Daisy Bladvak's new song, she immediately changed her mind.

The lights were _definitely_ the highlight.

Rose looked around as she followed chirpy Bangs. There were people occupying every seat, but it was strangely hushed; almost like the Great Hall whenever their Headmistress stood to address them. Everyone was trying to watch her inconspicuously…and failing miserably. She had a feeling that working here wouldn't be any different than working at the twenty other places she'd worked at before. Just a bigger place…with sick people.

However, seeing one of the seven 'Emergency Only' Floos come to life quickly changed her mind. Rose watched as two Transport Medi-wizards emerged from the flames and immediately rushed to the back, the levitating body of a patient between them.

Bangs slowed and interrupted her thoughts with a whispered, "The waiting area is warded so that no one can see any of the emergency patients or the Transport staff. Except for employees…and me, of course. I'm the Welcome Witch, if you didn't know already. I see everyone who comes in and everyone who leaves," she told Rose proudly in softer tones. "I'm the hospital's security. I take patients' wands before they go back and I can see through their bags."

"You can?"

She nodded. "Hospital wards allow me to. It's to make sure that they aren't carrying anything that would do anyone harm. There was an incident several years ago when some dark artefacts were smuggled in and used to kill a patient. No one wants a repeat of that fiasco."

"I suppose not." Rose instinctively held her beaded bag closer to her body. It was—as all of her most treasured belongings were—completely out of style, but she'd inherited it from her mother before she went off to Hogwarts…and there was no telling what sort of illegal items mum had put in there over the years.

"Don't worry, I can't see through your bag."

"Why not?"

"There are perks to being on the staff, and that is one of them."

"What are the others?"

"After today, you'll be able to Floo directly into work. Healers can Apparate unchecked inside the hospital."

"But not their assistants?"

"No. They've been petitioning it for years, but the administrators don't care. Just like they don't care about giving us Welcome Witches paid vacation time. There are four of us, and we're the foundation of this place. Our job is hard. Don't get me wrong, I like it," she'd told Rose as she sat down at her desk. "I like to help in any way that I can, which is why I usually play the popular stations on the Wireless. Makes the time pass faster."

Rose almost snorted, but stopped herself. Just barely.

"Now that I'm all settled," Bangs whipped out her wand. "I have specific instructions to send Healer Brown a Patronus the moment you arrive, and you're early. Which is a good thing, shows you're eager."

Not a word Rose ever associated with herself, but she was a firm believer in letting people believe what they wanted.

With little effort and a flourish of her wand, a silvery bird shot from Bang's wand. It flew around her head before it set off to deliver her message. "I heard that you forced your Patronus to be an otter, like your mum's."

For a long time, Rose truly believed that her parents' status as two-thirds of the celebrated 'Golden Trio' had nothing to do with her. Her parents were the heroes of the Second War, and she was just their daughter. Rose was fifteen when she found out just how wrong she was. She realised that no matter what she did—good or bad—she would never escape their legacy. There would always be assumptions and expectations attached to her actions and decisions.

In the end, Rose had to make a choice. She could either accept her role or rebel against it.

She chose the latter.

"Not only is that not even possible," Rose told her with a slight hint of irritation in her voice. "But if it were, an otter would be the very _last_ animal I would choose. I don't even like otters. They're the second most overrated species in the animal kingdom and I hope they all get eaten by snow leopards."

Bangs looked confused. "But your mum's-"

"Let me ask you a question. Are you obsessed with your mum? Do you try to model your life after hers?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you shouldn't assume that I do."

Bangs, in that moment, looked incredibly embarrassed. "I, oh, I didn't think about it like that. I'm sorry."

Rose smiled weakly. "Don't worry about it."

After a stretch of silence that only could be defined as extremely uneasy, Bangs asked. "So what's the first?"

"What?"

"Most overrated animal?"

"Oh, dolphins. Definitely."

All awkwardness dissipated when they both laughed. While waiting for Healer Brown to come out, Rose accepted the girl's invitation to sit with her. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, and Bangs was remarkable in a sort of scary, crazy, train wreck way, now that she wasn't treating Rose like some sort of demi-god.

Rose fiddled with her identification badge as Bangs fielded questions from incoming patients with ease and told her life story without hesitation. From the bits that she picked up, Bangs was nineteen, a Muggle-born, and studying journalism at a nearby University. She had a cat named Neptune, went to a wizarding school in America, wanted to eventually work for Witch Weekly, and was a Gemini. Needless to say, by the time a blonde witch who had to be the Healer she would be working for emerged from the double doors, Rose nearly leapt from her chair in relief. Bangs made for a great distraction, but she talked more than Scorpius' aunt after a bottle of Elf Wine…and she wasn't nearly as hilarious.

"You must be Rose. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Healer Brown offered her hand.

It was tanned and there were jagged scars running up her arm, but Rose accepted it without hesitation. "And you must be Healer Brown. Pleasure-"

"Call me Lavender when we're not around patients. I like to keep things as informal as possible. Makes the day run smoother and it makes assistants like me more." Her twinkling smile was warm and it made Rose take an instinctive liking to her. Perhaps, just maybe her mum was on to something by getting her a job as Healer Brown – err Lavender's – assistant.

"Will do."

"So, whenever you're ready..."

"I'm ready now."

After waving breezily at Bangs, she followed Lavender through the double doors, down the hall, and into the lift, her beaded bag a comforting weight at her side. The ride down was slow and quiet on her end, at least at the beginning, and Rose found herself sneaking glances at her talking boss. She'd been warned by Scorpius not to stare at the scars she wore proudly, but that was increasingly difficult. Uncle Bill's scars looked like scratch marks from a kitten in comparison. She must've been ravaged by that wolf Mum saved her from.

"Sorry, I'm a bit chatty. I haven't had an assistant in a while, mostly because the ones sent to me like to stare. So when Hermione called and asked me to take you on, I'll confess I was desperate. Assistants do make the workload easier."

Rose made a non-committal throaty noise.

Lavender shot her a look. "Do you know what you're going to be doing for me?"

She examined Healer Brown closely. She was feminine in a way Rose had never tried to be, all big blue eyes and long eyelashes, and beautiful in that older woman way that reminded her vaguely of Aunt Ginny. Her wavy blonde hair was tied back, giving her a more serious look…and highlighted her scars. Four trails of claw marks that started from her temple and disappeared into her healer robes. There were other marks, especially around her neck, but those were the most noticeable. She seemed friendly, despite what she'd been through. Mum said her recovery took years and it was largely the reason she'd gone into Healing.

"Well, do you?"

She couldn't even pretend that she was paying attention. "Huh?"

"Do you know what your job is?"

Rose shrugged. "I know the basics from one of Al's ex-girlfriend's whinging. I perform Diagnostic Charms on all your patients in the morning before you go on rounds, I check in on them during my shift when everyone's too busy, and alert you when something is wrong with a patient via Patronus. Oh, and I run menial errands for you. Coffee and food, mainly. Sometimes, you'll loan me out to other Healers: the nice ones if you like me, and the mean ones if I'm especially irritating."

"That's..." Lavender looked faintly amused, "actually accurate. Not the errands, though. Not a perk I indulge in. And I don't share. Some Healers forget that 'subordinate' doesn't actually mean 'slave.'" The lift doors opened and they stepped out. Rose looked around, confused. White walls, a long hallway greeted her, and several people waiting for the lift greeted her.

"Where are we?" She sidestepped a particularly impatient wizard and frowned. The lift closed.

"This is the employees' floor. All the administrative and Head Healer offices are down here, as are lockers and changing areas for everyone else. Oh, and a cafeteria where all the employees eat. Warning: the food is awful."

"I remember Scorpius moaning about it his first week here."

"Healer Malfoy?"

"The very one."

Lavender chuckled as they pass by the semi-empty cafeteria. "I've clearly been out the country too long. Weasleys and Malfoys: friends. If someone would've told me—"

"_We're_ friends. My dad still wants to throw Mr Malfoy from the top of the largest Quidditch pitch whenever they're in the same room and Uncle Harry's eyes threaten to roll out his head when they really get going. Some rivalries die hard."

She cracked a grin. "So it seems." And they stop outside a door. "This is the female locker room. You can pick one of the open ones and ward it however you like. Nothing that'll do permanent damage. Hermione told me that you picked up her knack for wards and charms. Not to mention, hexes."

Rose had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

"No need to look embarrassed. It's why she asked me to take you on."

Made sense. "So...which ward do we work in?"

"I spend a little time helping out in Unliftable Hexes, but only because they're so short-staffed. I work primarily in Incorrectly Applied Charms ward. It's not high-paced like the Intensive Care ward, but it's one of the busiest due to the sharp rise of ridiculous vanity and experimental charms in the wizarding world." Her distasteful tone was a indicator of how she felt about those who found themselves in her care. "We get everything from simple mistakes to cosmetic charms gone very awry. I had a patient last week who tried to charm his nose to look smaller and ended up charming his nose to grow every time he lied. Like Pinocchio, only more painful." At the surprised look on Rose's face, Lavender smirked. "I spent a lot of time around Muggles as a child. My parents were quite liberal, for pure-bloods, at least. Any questions?"

"Hmm..." All in all, it sounded rather entertaining to Rose. "What should I expect?"

"Just don't laugh, obviously. Or do the bug-eyes when you see the sheer ridiculousness that comes into the ward."

That was going to be hard.

"I know, but do at least duck out if you feel a giggle coming on."

Rose winced. "I didn't mean to say that out loud. I seem to have a recurring case of foot-in-mouth syndrome."

"Like your dad, huh?" Lavender smiled.

It was a bit awkward talking about her dad to his ex-girlfriend. Mum hadn't told her very much about Lavender outside her recovery after the war, and dad knew better than to talk about her in front of mum. She only knew that she and her mum were dorm mates at Hogwarts, and her mum spent most of Sixth Year secretly wanting to claw her eyes out with her bare hands because she constantly had her tongue down dad's throat. _"But I won in the end," _she'd told Rose on the ride over. _"Sure, it took a couple of years of listening to your dad burp the alphabet and putting up with his post-Quidditch body odour for me to realise it, but I did win." _

Rose accidentally snorted at her mother's words.

Lavender regarded her with a slightly exasperated look. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Well, you should probably go pick out a locker and get changed."

"There's a uniform?"

Yes. Apparently there was a uniform. And while the robes weren't so bad—at least in theory. She looked down at herself once she warded her locker and finished dressing. They were the perfect length, had bottomless pockets, a wand holster, and not to mention, they were flattering to her figure.

Too bad the colour was murder on her complexion.

Pink. The colour was her Kryptonite. It made her look like she had a fancy blend of dragon pox, leprosy, and consumption. After shoving her clothes into her beaded bag and placing it in her locker, she fastened her wand to the holster and exited the bathroom with a look of overt displeasure on her face.

Healer Brown, who was casually leaning against the opposite wall, failed miserably at suppressing her amusement. "Looks like Hermione got your measurements just right. Now if you could stop looking so stricken, you'll be all set."

Rose's scowl deepened. "I look sick. They're going to mistake me for a patient."

"Not in those robes, they won't. Standard assistant robes. It could be worse."

"I'm not sure how." She grouched, looking as petulant as a sunburnt child. Lavender led the way towards the lift. Rose fell right into step with her, tugging at her robes and feeling more self-conscious than usual.

"Well," the Healer considered with a thoughtful look. "They could have been bright yellow."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Oh hai there...it's me. Remember me? The girl who used to write all the time, but is crazy busy and unmotivated? Yep. That's me. Okay I know it's been forever, and if anyone picks this back up, I'll be lucky, but errr...I'm here fulfilling my promise to finish this! And I'm freaking nervous about this chapter. I wanted this chapter to have more, but going with the original plan, this sort of had to be this way. Character establishing and all that. I'm in the middle of the next chapter (actually writing). Seriously. It took me a while to remember where I was going with this story and now that I do, I'm on the move. I stayed up after working all night to get this ready to be posted. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! A heartfelt 'thank you' goes out to **drcjsnider** for picking up the beta job on this after so long. I hope to be finished with chapter 4 in maybe a week. *fingerscrossed*

Now I'm going to go flop in bed and sleep.


	4. The Scientist

_My eyes go where I say so  
But not always, and not when you walk by  
And my feet move where I tell them to  
But not when they are chasing after you  
And now I just don't know what I should do  
I'm twisted all around like some cartoon  
But I don't mind, no, I don't mind_

**I Don't Mind – Phantom Planet**

**Chapter Four – The Scientist**

When Scorpius' O.W.L. results arrived, his father invited his mother's family, Al, and Rose, to the Manor for one of the most elaborate celebration dinner he had ever seen.

The food had been exquisite; the tension, however, was not.

It was a fact well known to Scorpius that any shred of tolerance the Malfoy and Greengrass families had for each other dissolved right after his parents unofficially separated when he was ten. Each side blamed the other for the failed marriage, but always maintained some sort of civility for his sake. Dinners were always quiet and cordial affairs, if a little cold, but that night everyone drank too much wine and were far too opinionated about his future for anything to remain amiable.

Mother's family insisted that he go into politics, while Father's thought a career as an Unspeakable would be more fulfilling. By the time the final course was finished and the dishes cleared for dessert, the disagreement had grown vicious. Only his father had remained silent, watching them with bored amusement.

It was a look Scorpius had tried to emulate without success.

Their angry voices had risen to a crescendo and snide comments turned into outright verbal attacks. Dessert appeared, but everyone was too invested in their arguments to be interested. Scorpius, who had been certain Father would settle everyone down, was sorely disappointed and coloured with embarrassment when he only blinked at the pointed look from his son. Scorpius had turned to his friends, apologies on the tip of his tongue, but Al had taken to slowly eating his cobbler with a carefully blank face that told Scorpius that his best friend was no longer present. Rose, who would never pass up dessert, had done just that to scoot her chair closer to his in an attempt to avoid being smacked by the wildly waving hand of Aunt Daphne.

Scorpius had muttered his apologies, but Rose only chewed her lip and helped herself to his dessert. He ended up desperately looking to his father again for help. That time, his father sipped his Elf-Wine and said, "Welcome to adulthood."

In the end, Scorpius stood up, managed to get everyone's attention, and announced that he was going to take his six O's and one E and go into Healing.

It only made things worse, if that was at all possible.

Contrary to his family's beliefs, Scorpius didn't go into Healing to rebel against his privileged life, to defy them, or to be the 'black sheep'. It wasn't his 'calling', 'destiny', or any tripe like that. Scorpius didn't do it for the money – or lack thereof – or for the betterment of wizarding kind. Of course, he wanted to help people, but that wasn't all.

The truth was that he chose to be Healer because he wanted to make every moment of his life count. He wanted to work in a field that was dynamic and ever-expanding, with people who shared his passion, and in a job that that mattered in the grand scheme of things – even if only a little bit. Scorpius wanted to bring to his work not only facts from training – scientific and magical – but the human element that made those facts relevant. He believed that people were most human when they weren't at their best, or were even faced with death. In adversity, most developed an appreciation for the fragility of life and stopped over-magnifying the importance of the superficial. And with a family like his, it was nice to see such a display of humanity.

It kept him optimistic.

Father figured he would go into research, his friends thought he would discover a new spell or potion that would help thousands, but Scorpius ended up in the newly developed Intensive Care ward at St. Mungo's. And it was everything he wanted. Demanding, gritty, and intense job that required him to confidently know just enough about every aspect of Healing and human nature. The hours were sensible, the pay as poor as any other Level One Healer, and the things he saw would make anyone's blood run cold. Scorpius saw patients at their very worst and he did everything in his power to keep them alive. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed, but always...always he tried.

Mostly, working in the Intensive Care ward was rewarding, but today had been...difficult at best.

Two deaths in the three weeks.

Not particularly alarming, because each were hanging by a thread, but the undetermined on their death certificates left him a little perplexed. And when the high-profiled William Savage brought their total to three, confusion had turned into suspicion. Inquiries from St. Mungo's administrators and solicitors had taken most of the day and by the end of his shift, everything was still undetermined.

Scorpius hated that word.

His shift ended at five, but paperwork and last minute chats with a patient's family usually kept him there until well past six. So at half-past five, when he announced to his replacement that he was leaving, Scorpius could practically hear the questions forming in Eliot's head and left without explaining. Eliot was far too chatty for his liking and Scorpius worked extremely hard to keep his name out of hospital gossip. He signed off on Mr. Kingston's transfer to the first floor and escaped to the elevator before anyone else caught on.

Henrietta was leaving the Healer's changing room, bag slung over her shoulder, when he arrived. She smiled thinly at him. "Hey, you're off early."

"I think this day called for an early leave."

"Too right."

She looked exhausted – hair in a sloppy bun, crooked glasses, and dressed in Muggle clothes. He had been meaning to check on her after the inquiries. One of the patients – the second – had been hers, and they had been relentless. They combed through her records, questioned every decision she made and potion administered, and she floundered like a fish. It was almost painful to watch her stammer and stumble through her explanations. Luckily, detailed records had cleared Henrietta of any wrongdoing, but the damage was done.

Her confidence was shot and that wasn't good in their profession.

"Any plans tonight?" Scorpius asked to make conversation.

"Dinner and a film at home. You're welcome to join me."

"Sorry, I have plans already."

"Oh?" Henrietta inquired.

"I'm going sofa shopping with Rose." He checked his watch. "She should be waiting in the tearoom for me."

She quirked a brow. "And she can't do that alone or with Al because...?"

Scorpius blanched at the thought. "Rose has barely enough patience for shopping to get through one store and Al has as about as much style as a drop of ink. One of them unironically wears a cape."

Henrietta laughed.

"If I left them to their own devices, Rose would settle on a hideous... thing from a thrift store that wobbled and smelled like a zoo."

"She would not!"

He smirked. "Probably not, but it would be just as tacky and ill-fitting for her flat."

"You sofa snob, you."

Scorpius gave her a wry look. "And this is me, admitting nothing."

Henrietta just smiled. "Well, good luck. Are you on tomorrow?"

"Yes, but not until eleven. I'm off on Friday. My mother will be in town. We're having dinner in London."

Not only did Scorpius dread the dinner itself, which was likely to be an extremely dull affair, he dreaded fending off the barrage of his mother's questions about his love life and her pointed remarks about the lack of it. Father wouldn't be there to serve as a buffer and the voice of reason; his head hurt from the mere thought. And yet, his face told nothing. Henrietta had a talent for reading people. Clothing and jewellery, twitches and frowns, shifting eyes and sighs and shrugs – she noticed it all. Her attention to detail made her an excellent Healer, but he wasn't in the mood to be analysed. Scorpius didn't want to think about what she already knew, what he hadn't been smart enough to hide from her during Hogwarts, but his issues with his mother was something he was determined to keep private.

"That sounds really nice," she smiled. "I'd love to meet your mother someday. She seems lovely."

"Oh, she is." Scorpius forged a warm look out of thin air. "I'm sure she'd like you."

It was a blatant lie.

Mother wouldn't say anything to her face, she would be polite and nice, but the moment Henrietta left, the suppressed disdain would rear its ugly head. She would deem her unfit to associate with Scorpius. Muggle-born. Middle class. Boring. Pretty in a common way. Crooked bottom tooth. _Don't you dare consider dating her,_ she would say because of every witch he introduced to her was a potential match in her eyes. He knew that from experience. His mother hated Rose with such a passion she didn't bother hiding it. Half-blood. Too curvy. Pretty, but tragically uncouth. Too opinionated and vocal. Free-spirited. Weasley. Indecisive. Unfit.

His fingers clenched.

"I should get changed," he said suddenly. "Rose is probably overdosing on tea."

Henrietta snorted. "Can't have that, now can we? I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have fun." She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and left the way he came.

Scorpius changed quickly into Muggle clothes, dashed up to the tearoom, and found Rose asleep at the table, nose dangerously close to dipping into her tea. Pastry untouched. He rolled his eyes, biting back a smile when he noticed they weren't alone.

He could only blink at the witch with dramatic bangs sitting across from Rose. She grinned back. "You must be Scorpius. Rose's friend. I'm Jane. One of the Welcome Witches."

"Oh, hello." He gestured to his sleeping friend. "How long has she been comatose?"

"Twenty minutes. I was explaining some of the new security measures they're implementing and – is it normal for her to just drop off like that?"

"Only when she's dead tired." Or extremely bored.

"I've been trying to wake her, but you can see how successful I've been."

Rose let out a snore.

Jane snickered. "I doubt you'll be any more successful than me."

Scorpius made a non-committal noise and moved the teacup and plate. He had perfected his own art of waking Rose up. Okay, Albus had, but his way involved Wet Willies and Scorpius could do without the screaming. Or the violence. Scorpius' approach was finer. Under the curious gaze of Jane, he leaned close to her ear and said two words: "Lily's coming."

Rose was awake in no time, panicked one second and completely unamused the next. "_You_ are a lying liar that _lies_."

He remained unapologetic. "It had the desired effect. My conscience is clear."

She pouted. "I could've done without the adrenaline rush, thanks."

"A little fight-or-flight never hurt anyone. If anything, it gave your brain some much-needed additional blood flow."

Rose glared hotly. "You do realise you're the boy who cried wolf. Literally. One day, I'm not going to believe you."

"Which will be your downfall. You're the one terrified of your own cousin."

"I am not."

"You run from her. Literally. I saw you vault over chairs and that short table at the Burrow. There was dust and everything."

"We were outside! And that was one time. I was younger then."

"It was three days ago," he deadpanned.

"Semantics," she hand-waved. "The fact remains the same, I—"

"You were running, Rose. _Running_."

"It's called a tactical retreat. With speed. I was trying to avoid her ode to Celestine Warbeck. And I failed. Words cannot express the _horrors_ I endured."

"You used to love Celestine."

"I also used to read the Faerie Academy series. Does that _sound_ like I was making good life choices?" she countered.

"Like you're doing so much better now. Do you want me to remind you about the novel I caught you reading last month. I believe it was—"

She threw a hand over his mouth. "I'm ending this conversation because you're acting surprisingly Slytherin right now. You might be a Malfoy and that should be expected, but my brain can't cope with you beating me at my own game." Scorpius licked her palm and she wrenched her hand back. "Urgh! Germs!"

He smirked.

"Aww," Jane piped in. She'd eaten half of Rose's pastry and had a bit of chocolate on her mouth. "Just when it was getting good."

Rose's eyes went from her to him. "Has she really been there the entire time?"

Scorpius only rolled his eyes.

"You two are just too adorable for words." She rested her chin on her hands, eyes sweeping between them with an adoring grin. It was frankly disturbing. It didn't help that half her face was shielded by bright blonde hair. "Rose, you didn't tell me Scorpius is your boyfriend." Jane gave him an appraising once over that made him feel naked. "And that he's incredibly fit."

The hungry looks he'd been receiving from Lily lately was enough preparation for Jane's appreciation, but he still squirmed under her gaze. Scorpius wasn't shy – far from it when it really mattered – just reserved and modest to a degree that bordered on bashfulness. He knew he was attractive and dismissed it as irrelevant. Years of being pursued by pure-blooded families for his looks and inheritance made him bored with society's superficiality.

He had learned at an early age that none of it mattered in the end. So he kept his head in his books to ignore the legions of girls at school who squabbled to get close to him. And after Hogwarts, he remained politely distant during introduction to single daughters and nieces and granddaughters at galas and events. He frowned when people called him an 'eligible bachelor', awkwardly blinked when witches turned their batting lashes and demure giggles his way, and tuned out the compliments he didn't know how to take...

Scorpius' mouth opened and shut twice without making any sound, but Rose saved him from having to force a reply that would have either been awkward or rude or both.

"Scorpius and I are best mates." She draped her beaded bag over her shoulder and pushed in the chair she'd so ungracefully flown out of at the mere mention of her cousin. When Jane's smile widened to display her very white teeth, Rose gave Scorpius a push toward the door and followed. "We really should get going, sofas to buy and all that jazz."

"Oh," Jane looked disappointed. "Well, see you then. Scorpius, it was nice to meet you."

Scorpius just nodded and left. He was several steps away when he heard, "He's _yummy_."

Rose snorted. "Sadly I cannot endorse any form of cannibalism, so stop with the hungry eyes and the salivating in his presence. Makes him twitchy."

**xxxxxxx**

Contrary to popular beliefs, Rose Weasley wasn't lazy.

She wasn't a slacker, a brat, or unmotivated.

Well, perhaps the latter.

The most important thing Scorpius had learned during their friendship was that Rose was completely brilliant – at being average. She did enough to get by, to get what she wanted, the bare minimum, but never anything extra. She rarely studied, got through Hogwarts on sheer intelligence, and would likely get through life in the same way. Rose didn't try, and that was something that irritated Scorpius.

He could see her potential, had seen it on one occasion in Sixth Year when she ferociously fought to clear Hugo's name when he faced expulsion for cheating on a Potions exam. He watched her hunt down, corner, and question everyone in Hugo's class when the initial accusations rolled in. And a week later, because she refused to allow his trial to be drawn out and gossiped about, Scorpius watched her use every bit of the 'evidence' against Hugo to clear his name with the Disciplinary Panel. She earned a nod of approval from the Headmistress and, after a post-trial snack and nap, went right back to getting by.

Scorpius told the story once to his father, and then he forgot about the two weeks he spent with a Driven Rose. So when he saw her again, he didn't recognise her. It wasn't until she tossed her coat in his general direction and scanned the furniture store with crazy eyes, that Scorpius realised he was no longer in the presence of Unmotivated Rose.

But it was far too late to do anything about it.

She quickly spotted her target, a manager pretending to look busy, and with a muttered, "You'll do just nicely," she started his way.

The poor bloke never had a chance.

Rose cornered him, all polite smiles and curiosity, and once he directed her to the sofas within her budget, she waved Scorpius over. The manager took his appearance as the end of his job, and was completely blindsided when Rose launched an inquisition about the durability of frames in the first sofa, hand tied coils in the second, and cushion fillings on the third.

Apparently, she'd done research since yesterday.

She knew to stay away from the plywood frames he praised and seemed to take pleasure in testing each sofa out, pulling cushions and pushing on the deck. Once the manager realised that Rose wasn't just going to buy any piece of furniture, he tried a different tactic: he took her seriously.

All Scorpius could do was sit on a nearby recliner and watch her check the welting on a blue sofa the manager just swore was everything she wanted. If Scorpius had realised what he was getting into, he would have planned better and dragged someone else along to share his pain and wonderment. Probably not Hugo, who would have known better. Scorpius also would have scheduled the trip for the busiest part of the week, eaten ahead of time, and brought along some sort of entertainment – a book, perhaps.

A really long one.

"What do you think?" Rose stood back, casting a critical look over the sofa. Still the blue one.

He stood up and joined her, ignoring the hopeful looks from the manager. "It's...very blue."

"It comes in red and green." The manager announced.

"No and no." Rose shot down quickly. "Had enough of those colours at school. And I don't like the fabric."

"Perhaps velvet is more of your style."

"Creepy."

"Linen?"

"Boring."

"Bi-cast leather?"

"No leather. Ever."

Scorpius cocked a brow at her. "But you hate cows. I'm sure I remember you going on a tirade about how pretentious they were...or was that dolphins? It's hard to keep up with all your proclaimed failures of the animal kingdom."

"There aren't that many, just those two and anything that forgets that I run the food chain." Rose looked at him. "You don't eat anything with a face, I'm not going to make you sit on a dead cow whenever you come over. That's just rude."

He grinned. "Aw, looks like the Tin Man has a heart."

"I regret everyday that I forced you to watch The Wizard of Oz."

Scorpius laughed.

She elbowed him gently and focused back at the task on hand. She gave the sofa another look. "Hmm. I think the issue is that all the furniture suggestions are a little too clean cut for me. I'd like something a little edgier and creative."

"I think..." The manager went on, leading the way to another sofa with Rose following. When she saw Scorpius wasn't behind her, she doubled back, looped her arm through his, and pulled him along to the grey sofa that the manager – Craig, he finally read – was standing behind.

Rose didn't go through the rigorous examination that time. She looked at it, frowned, and said, "It looks like a rain cloud."

"A very chic rain cloud, right?" Craig countered.

"If chic means dirty, then sure."

Scorpius liked to think that the back and forth between Rose and the manager would have gone on forever – or at least until closing – if he hadn't turned his head to cough out a laugh. Because that was when he saw it: a black, quirky sofa with a wavy back that was so perfect he wondered how they had passed it. The fact that it was on clearance made it just that much better. Just before Craig started down to the next sofa he had in mind, Scorpius pointed it out. "What about that one?"

Rose unlinked their arms, headed straight for it, and was attempting to lift it by the time he and Craig caught up.

"What do you think?" he asked.

She walked around it several times, her face unreadable.

"It's not exactly made with the best material, and—"

"I actually like it." Rose interjected. "It's different." Craig practically sagged with relief, but Rose didn't notice. She was too busy plopping down on the sofa like an over-exuberant child. "Oh, it's comfortable too. I think this is the one." The manager didn't waste a moment before excusing himself to retrieve the paperwork and another employee to discuss delivery and payment. It would probably be a bit, the store was busier than it had been when they arrived. "Come on. Sit on your new bed."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I don't spend that many nights on your sofa. Two a month, at most."

"A month?" She guffawed. "You poor, deluded sod. You fall asleep every single film night—"

"Because your taste in films is questionable at best."

"And let's not forget the occasions that Al brings a girl home."

"How do you expect me to sleep through that?"

"Two words: Silencing Charm."

"Just because I can't hear it, doesn't mean it's not happening. And let me just add that Al's 'I just got laid' face is not something I want to see over my morning tea and toast."

Rose looked like she'd eaten a sour grape. "_Gross_. I didn't need the mental picture."

"And I don't need the actual one, trust me."

"Fair enough, now sit down." She tugged on his arm until he gave in and sat next to her. The sofa was comfortable and firm enough to sleep on.

He was tired, and the mere thought of sleep made his eyes grow heavy. Rose shifted next to him, leaning against his arm like she'd done countless times before. And Scorpius only did what was natural: he moved his arm. It was a silent invitation for her to scoot closer; one that she always took. Then he curled his arm around her shoulder and took a practised breath when she hugged an arm around his middle. Rose had always been tactile. She initiated hugs, little touches, a hand on his shoulder, a ruffle of his hair. He figured it was part of being a Weasley; none of them were familiar with the concept of personal space. It was something he'd gotten used to over the years; a real test of his self-control.

Because it was easy to forget that none of her touches meant anything.

"You know," he started after forcing the thought from his head. "I forgot to ask you how your first day went."

"It was better than I expected. Tiring, but I got to see a lady who tried to alter her chin and ended up with an elephant trunk. It was _glorious_."

He chuckled fondly, allowing himself to twist a lock of her hair around his finger. Only for a moment. "The things that entertain you."

"My mind is a scary place. You know this." A moment of companionable silence passed and she sat up, still close, still leaning on him, but she took her arm back. Scorpius exhaled just as Rose said, "So, _you_ had a rotten day. I heard about the inquiries. My mum knew the last one. William Savage, right?"

"Yes, that's him." Scorpius frowned. "It's all a right mess, if you ask me, but I'm glad today is over."

"What do you think it is? You should hear some of the conspiracy theories Ba—erm _Jane_ came up with."

"It's all a coincidence, a tragic one, but a statistical anomaly." He paused for just a beat. "Also, please don't tell me you gave her a nickname."

There was silence, followed by an unconvincing, "I would _never_."

He just blinked at her. "Rose, you called me Blondie for a solid year."

"Internally!" she argued. "I should have never told you. And okay, it's Bangs. Because she has…ridiculous bangs."

"Creative," Scorpius drawled.

She shoved his knee so hard it knocked against the other one. "It's all I could think of on a pinch, but that isn't the point here."

"Ah, so there was a point in there?"

That time she pinched his side, causing him to jump and make an unmanly noise that brought a mischievous smile to her face. "I'm filing that sound away for your future humiliation, just so you know."

He made a face. "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because I'm the best and you have the highest chance of surviving the apocalypse. We've been through this already." Rose said with a magnanimous gesture and grin. "Anyway, Bangs has all sorts of theories about what's going on. My personal favourite is Killer Aliens. Quite interesting once you hear the entire idea, completely mental, but fascinating nonetheless."

He poked her in the leg. "Sounds like you've made a friend."

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm perfectly capable of making friends and you better agree or I'll threaten you with bodily harm."

"Your threats are meaningless. Even less so now that we're practically cuddling in a furniture store."

"I don't cuddle."

"So if I stand up right now?"

"Extreme bodily harm."

"That's what I thought."

**xxxxxxx**

Dinner with Rose's family was nothing like any sort of meal he'd ever had with his family, save his own Father.

It started with full-bodied hugs in front of the restaurant and Rose's mum fussing over his lean frame, continued inside with great food and easy conversation, dissolved into fits of laughter at Rose and her dad's antics, and ended back at her parent's home with home-made dessert. Hugo showed him a few of his completed drawings and they listened to a few vinyl records with Rose. It was well past ten o'clock when Scorpius Floo'd home sated, exhausted, and armed with several plates of vegetarian meals Rose's mum had prepared earlier with him in mind.

Scorpius had all but collapsed on his sofa after putting the food away, too tired to make it to his bedroom. He closed his eyes, started to dose, but forced himself to wake up because he refused to sleep on the sofa.

Of course, the moment he dragged himself to his feet, the Floo flared to life and Albus emerged.

Scorpius cocked a brow. Al had been out on a double date with James and his girlfriend-of-the-moment. He never bothered with names. "Back so soon?"

"I would've been back ages ago had it been possible."

"That bad?"

"I'm not actually certain whether to start at the part where James and Matilda were attached at the lips or if I should begin when Emily ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and asked what happened to my glasses and scar."

"Ouch."

Albus shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I was late and she was already pissed off one glass of wine by the time I sat down. I'm actually surprised it wasn't worse." Albus hung up his jacket on the coat rack next to the fireplace. "Are you just getting in?"

Scorpius nodded. "About ten minutes ago."

"How was sofa shopping?"

"Terrifying."

Al laughed. "It wasn't that—"

"She cornered the manager like a tiger and intensely examined every sofa he showed her. I'm certain we would still be there had it not been for me."

"Sounds like Rose. She was banned from Madam Maulkin's for a reason, you know."

He hadn't thought about that. "True."

"Did you eat already? I'm starving."

"I had dinner with Rose's parents and Hugo, but if you want something quick, you can eat one of the plates her mum—" Al's face lit up and he vanished into the kitchen. Scorpius followed him to make sure he'd have food for lunch tomorrow. Al was already sitting at the table in front of a plate of stir-fry, fork in hand. "That was fast."

"I love Aunt Hermione's cooking...except that cereal she makes. Tastes like rocks." He made a face and started eating.

"I happen to like that cereal."

Al snorted, but waited until he finished chewing to reply. "You would."

"Wanker." His best friend only grinned widely. Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'm off to bed."

His smile faded quickly. "Hey, hold up for a second. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Okay, what?"

Albus hesitated, looking uncharacteristically hesitant for a moment, then sighed. "Lily fancies you."

Given her behaviour as of late, it didn't surprise Scorpius much. Still, he didn't quite know how to respond. "Erm. Okay?"

"Look, I don't want to have this conversation because it's awkward, but just don't lead her on." Albus quickly hurried and added. "I know you wouldn't. Not intentionally. I just—she's my sister. I know she's a right pain in the arse, but I don't want to see her hurt. She tends to take innocuous interactions and give them meaning, and I don't want there to be any sort of confusion."

"There won't be," he assured. "I've never said or done anything that would give Lily any reason to believe she's more than a friend."

"Hmm." Albus leaned back in his chair. "I suppose the same thing can be said about Rose, too."

Scorpius frowned. "I thought we were talking about Lily."

"And now we're not."

"Can this conversation wait until the day after, let's say...never?"

"You need to tell her, for both your sakes." Albus sat his fork down and folded his arms. "I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out. Rose is usually more observant."

"I happen to be far more subtle than you give me credit for."

Albus pushed his chair away from the table and went to fix himself a glass of water. "Olivia's getting married."

"Olivia Jordan?" He knew the answer. Olivia and Al were practically raised together, as their parents were friends, so it wasn't much of a surprise when they started dating last spring.

The only shock was how fast they got serious. Al had never been serious with anyone and Olivia was rebounding from a long-term relationship. Scorpius never for a second thought they would last more than a month, but by summer, Albus wanted to get married and there was no talking him out of it. In the end, Olivia broke it off because she still had feelings for her ex, Kyle. They broke up in September and Al had been casually dating ever since.

Now she was getting married.

"Bloody hell, Al. When did you find out?"

"She told me a few days ago." He took a drink of water. "Don't worry, I'm not about to endanger myself out in the field or anything melodramatic. I'm actually happy for her. She and Kyle make sense in a way we never could." He set the cup down on the counter. "If I'm being honest with myself, the entire situation made me realise I want that. To have someone, I mean. I want to have someone that I can bicker and be completely honest with. Someone I can try to live without, but can't seem to. Something like my parents' relationship. It took them years to get to the point where they are now, with the war and recovery, but—"

"Don't," was all he managed to get out before Albus dug right into the heart of the matter; the real reason for this late conversation.

"We're only twenty-one and," he shook his head ruefully. "You didn't even have to work for it. You just have it with Rose. It doesn't make complete sense, but it works, and you're being bloody stupid—"

"Me? Stupid?" Scorpius shot back. "I thought I was the logical one. At least that's what everyone says. Scorpius is logical. Scorpius has no imagination." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You know, it drives me mad." He didn't want to have this conversation, least of all with Rose's cousin, but since Al was forcing it, he might as well.

"I—" Al started, but Scorpius never let him finish.

"I like to entertain silly notions just like anyone else, but like everything, there is a time and a place for it. Destroying my friendship with Rose for that one out of a-a _thousand_ chance that we could have a-_relationship_," he choked on the last word, hands curling into fists at his sides. "That's the only thing about all this that's stupid, Al. _Not me_."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Phew. Got this up finally. Chapter 4 has been done for a few weeks, but the beta was on a business trip and couldn't get it back to me. Err. Don't expect something for at least two weeks for the following reasons:

1. Busy.  
2. OMGIJUSTGOTAKINDLE and I'm in Kindle Heaven.  
3. Also got a new phone so I'm still like "what app should I try out today!"  
4. Ramping up the exercise.  
5. End-of-Spring cleaning with my family this week. Gross.

Anyway, thanks you guys, for all the support and the reviews. I don't really have time to reply to them all because between this story and my others, mainly Broken, I get quite a few reviews and I do read them all. But still, thanks for all the love. Also thanks to drcjsnider for the beta work. This is the final chapter before the plot takes off. I wanted to get a good introductory feel of all the characters, establish all the relationships, problems, and really give you a feel of everything before it all goes to hell. I've been fretting about chapter 5 for weeks, like "OMG YOU DON'T DO ACTION SCENES MUCH AND THEN YOU DECIDE TO WRITE A STORY WITH MULTIPLE ACTION SCENES, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!" So...yeah. Pray my brain makes it through. If you're like "wtf is she talking about? Just listen to Gavin DeGraw's 'Belief' because that basically the song for chapter 5. Until next time!

inadaze22


	5. Here Be Dragons

**Chapter Five – Here Be Dragons**

It had only taken a month for Rose to fall into a routine.

Rose woke up, went to work, and had breakfast and a morning chat with Bangs at her desk. She spent the better part of her mornings trailing after Healer Brown and her afternoons catching up on paperwork while her boss went to security meetings. Before she left, Rose attended _another_ meeting where Aurors updated the staff on the ongoing investigation into the unexplained deaths where the words 'constant vigilance' were used at least twice before they were released.

Her uncle would be proud.

Rose had some semblance of a social life that mainly involved her inner circle and sometimes the newcomer, Bangs. And after her social obligations were complete, she usually went home, collapsed on her new sofa for a bit of telly time, but always ended up dragging herself off to bed before she could finish catching up on her shows.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

After the first week and a glowing report from Healer Brown, her mother seemed much more confident about Rose's forced life choices. The second week, Mum laughed her way through each of her work stories and Dad beamed at her proudly when she told them of the freedoms Lavender had given her because she'd proven to be quite the asset.

By the third week, the diatribes on the evils of ennui and the _Chicken Soup for the Witch's Soul_ books that follow her from room to room had vanished, so had the morning wake-up calls, and the vegetables. Well, some of them. Rose still took it as a victory. And this week – the fourth – came with a Free Pass from the usual mandatory Friday night dinners.

"Go have fun," Mum had said earlier when Rose had dropped by her office during her lunch hour bearing gifts in the form of her dad's famous sandwiches. Her mother was deeply focused on the St. Mungo's case file on her desk, but she had sounded sincere when she told Rose, "You deserve it. We'll see you at family brunch on Sunday. Thanks for bringing me dinner, love."

Rose couldn't remember whose idea it had been to go to a Muggle-themed rave in Knockturn Alley, but as soon as she remembered, she would turn them into a bog roll and leave them in a the dirtiest lavatory in London.

She couldn't talk herself out of it and, Merlin, had she tried.

"We're doing this to celebrate you," James had said pleasantly with Albus pulling a pouty, puppy dog face over his shoulder. Scorpius had only yawned and grumbled that they'd already convinced – read: _forced_ – him to come along. When Rose continued to decline the invite, Lily had harped on for a solid hour until Rose's will to live had broken and crumbled.

She hated all of them. Stupid Potters. And stupid Scorpius, too. Just for good measure.

So that night, instead of rotting her brain in front of the telly like she'd planned, Rose found herself dressed in clothes she had no idea she even owned. She suspected Lily had something to do with the form-fitting additions to her wardrobe.

And then, someone knocked on her door.

It was half-past ten and thirty minutes before she had to meet everyone at the corner of Knockturn Alley. She made sure her wand was within summoning distance because no one knocked on her door. _No one._ Muggles forgot what they wanted whenever they approached her door and anyone with magic knew better.

So with one pink-laced shoe on, Rose cautiously crept to the door and called out, "This building has a no solicitation policy!"

There was something that sounded like a chuckle, followed by a somewhat familiar voice that said, "Not selling anything, Rose. It's Quincy."

"Who?"

"From the New Year's party."

Like that was supposed to mean anything. "Drawing a blank, sorry."

"I'm the model, remember?"

Ah. _Him_.

Rose considered her appearance – the lack of a shoe and wild hair mainly – and shrugged. She didn't have a care left to give tonight. Not one. Rose opened the door.

And well. She definitely remembered him now.

Tall, blue-eyed, sandy-haired. The _Playwitch_ model. The model that was ridiculously not on her level. And a _model_. He looked like one in his white shirt, Muggle denims, and dragon skin jacket. Stupidly attractive. All he needed was a cig and a tortured soul and he'd be the—Rose refused to finish that thought.

Back on track.

How did he even know where she lived? Rose had completely ditched him at the party and hadn't spared him one thought since. Instinct almost had her shut the door in his face, but common sense stopped her. There was a first time for everything, it would seem. However, it didn't stop her from sticking her foot in her cake hole. "Lily says that stalking is a higher form of flattery than imitation, but I don't agree."

"Oh," his smile faltered a bit and his cheeks flushed. "No. I'm not."

"Go on, tell me why you're here then." Rose encouraged dryly.

Quincy seemed to visibly relax as he flashed a boyish grin. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"It's the ying to my yang. And you still haven't told me why you're here. I'm going to think you're lying about the stalking if you don't speak up soon. I have a wand, as you know." She looked over at the Muggle sporting equipment Lily had left in her apartment. "And a tennis racket. I'll just pretend your head is the ball, which is exactly what I did during Lily's lesson last weekend. Not _your_ head, but hers. She thinks I have a strong serve, but the truth is that I was properly motivated. I'm sure I can channel that particular brand of motivation again if necessary."

He just laughed and _laughed_. She wanted to be threatening, not funny, but apparently Rose wasn't getting her way today. Just great.

"No need for violent tangents. I'm not stalking you." Quincy told her once he'd caught his breath. "I was actually coming to pick you up for the rave. I thought we could, you know, Apparate there together."

And everything made perfect sense: her kit, the insistence about going to the rave tonight, and lastly, the male model at her doorstep. _Lily._ Rose scowled. "Someone needs to give her a slap. Somebody needs to put her on a leash and tie her to a hexed broom."

Quincy's smile dimmed. "Lily said—"

Rose stopped mentally mangling her cousin. "I'm not upset. Don't worry, you're off the hook. She likes to pry in people's lives. It's her superpower." Complete understatement. Lily pushed and pushed and pushed some more. She harped on things until Rose wanted to push her off a cliff. She'd barely managed to avoid her constant badgering about setting her up with Scorpius in the last month. Mainly because Lily had been too busy to really corner Rose like she usually did. "Sorry she dragged you into this. I'll sort out something to get her off your back."

Because Merlin forbid if Rose had actually disagreed with Lily, or declined her horrid attempts at setting her up. Not that Quincy was a horrible choice, he wasn't, but she also wasn't interested. She could almost visualise Lily's reaction. There wasn't a better sulker in the world than Lily Potter. She could bottle and market her sulking to the spoiled brat fraction of the wizarding world. She would either make millions or there would be a sulking epidemic. The Ministry would have to be brought in. Cures would need to be created deep in the Department of Mysteries. Pandemonium and sulking chaos would ensue. _Anarchy_.

So probably not, then.

Quincy rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit shy. It was an odd look for such an attractive wizard. "I actually _asked_ her about you."

The cogs in Rose's head ground to a complete stop.

"Look, I know you ditched me at the party, but I thought if we—" Quincy made a hand gesture, but Rose didn't know him well enough to interpret. "Tonight," he continued when she just stared at him blankly. "I figured tonight we could get to know each other better and maybe—"

"As mates." Rose interjected. "You mean as proper mates, right?"

Quincy sobered, looking awkward. "If that's what you want."

"It is," she assured him. "I'm not really interested in anything more right now. Sorry." Rose made a wincing face. "Actually, not sorry."

His smile returned. "I appreciate the honesty."

Rose smiled back, gesturing for him to come in. "I have to find my other shoe and finish making sure no one can yank on my hair, accidentally or otherwise, tonight. It'll be a bit." She led him into her sitting room and dashed off to finish getting ready. And to quickly plan out several scenarios where Lily's body would never be found. The Black Lake? Merpeople were too nosy. So no. Forbidden Forest? The Centaurs sort of admired her uncle. Favoured him in only a way that centaurs could. And since Lily was his daughter, she figured that idea was another no. Rose was pretty sure she could transfigure her into a bug and step on her. That would probably work.

And it would make her feel so much better.

Feeling better about the awkward situation Lily had thrown her into without warning, Rose did a few squats and knee-bends to stretch her denims and strolled into sitting room. Quincy looked up from the book he'd plucked from her bookshelf and held it up. "_Magic Your Way to a Better Life_. There's a story here, I'm sure of it."

"Just a tragic swan song of a slacker's desperate, overprotective mother."

He barked out a laugh and sat it on her brand new coffee table. Rose collapsed inelegantly on the other end of the sofa, stretching her legs across the middle. She glanced at her watch. They had another fifteen minutes before they needed to leave. Rose picked a piece of lint off her turquoise denims.

"At least she cares," Quincy shrugged. "My parents wouldn't bother."

It was the sort of comment that immediately caught her attention. Rose had her mind made up about Quincy. A pretty face and privileged life, but there was such heaviness in his tone that made her feel a twinge of guilt for categorising him. Just a twinge. She was judgmental. It was a character flaw. She made hasty judgments at first sight, but half the time she was right. The other half…well, if Rose felt bad about every person she'd misjudged, she'd drive herself batty. And it wasn't worth it. So she nudged him with her foot and asked, "What's your story? All I know is that you're model with ridiculous hair."

Quincy flashed a smile. "Ridiculous? I'll take it because I'm pretty sure that's Rose-speak for bloody fantastic."

"Learned quick, you have."

His eyebrow shot up. "What's wrong with your voice?"

Rose sighed. "Purebloods."

"I'm half, actually."

"And you don't know anything about _Star Wars_? Shame! Shame on you and everyone who let you live twenty-plus years without experiencing the American classic that is Star Wars. The last three episodes. Not the first three. _Never_ the first three."

Quincy just blinked. "I feel like I'm supposed to understand you, but I just don't."

"That's a normal reaction. I was able to educate Scorpius, who blew up the telly the first time Al turned it on. You shouldn't be that difficult to teach. I hope." She was about fifty percent confident.

Okay, forty-five.

He snorted. "He blew it up?"

"To be fair, he was twelve and trying to sort out the exact magic that made it work. We all learned a valuable lesson: magic and tellies don't mix. At all. Never." Rose paused, quirking her head to the side. "Actually, I take that back. He gets no credit. The nerd." Quincy let out a real laugh that was pleasant and contagious enough for Rose to join in until they were sighing and holding their sides. "So what's your story? What do you do beside look roguishly handsome for the pleasure of witches?"

"Modelling just something I do to earn money for my apprenticeship, my parents would pay, but I'd rather do it myself."

"Apprenticeship?"

"At Gringotts. I'm studying to be a Curse-breaker and my apprenticeship is with your uncle, Bill Weasley. He's actually the one who invited me to the party. I work at the Ministry sometimes as a Magical Artefacts expert for Ministry. Only when they need me. I freelance."

He was certainly a lot more than she'd expected, truth be told.

Rose smirked. "You're an overachiever with a pretty face, but I don't think that makes you an expert."

"My parents are magical archaeologists. They're too wrapped up in their projects to be parents, but they did make sure I knew everything there was to know about artefacts. Even the ones lost in time. They used to take me out for digs during the summer hols."

"Useful."

He shrugged. "I suppose."

Rose glanced at her watch and scrambled off the sofa. "It's five 'til. We should go." If we're late Lily will _annoy_ me to death with her I'm-disappointed-in-your-lack-of-punctuality eyes, which is usually accompanied by a what-is-your-life sigh." Rose glared at Quincy, who was struggling to maintain a straight face. "Don't look at me like that. I've known Lily since she was born. She has _very_ expressive body language. She's been judging me since day one and I thought she was a boy. In my defence, I was two and she had no hair. How was _I_ supposed to know?"

Quincy dragged his hands down to his knees before standing, poorly suppressing his amusement. "You two fight like sisters."

She gave him a dirty look. "Rude. I should splinch you on purpose."

He threw up his arms. "I was just wondering why you two hate each other so much."

She summoned her beaded bag and draped it over her shoulder. "I don't hate her. She's my cousin, but we just don't mesh. Never have. We're too different." Rose snapped her fingers and raised her hand just in time to catch her wand. Quincy didn't bother to disguise his amazement. Sheepish in the face of his awe, Rose muttered. "Don't tell Lily I can do that."

"Don't want your mum to find out?"

"Precisely."

They shook on it, but Quincy made an amendment. "You owe me the first dance."

"Fine, fine."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Shockingly, they were the first to arrive.

Rose felt the need to celebrate with a fist-pump celebration that Quincy just laughed through. She would've done more had Lily not arrived with Al and Scorpius flanked around her, and scarred her for life with her dramatic makeup and outfit. Neon green denims and a shirt with a bunch of runes on it.

Someone didn't get the family memo about what neon could do to red hair and pale skin.

"What are you _wearing_? You know the rules. No one with Weasley blood is allowed to wear anything neon or reflective. It makes us look like someone dug us out of a _grave_."

"Exactly!" Al chimed in helpfully. Judging from his attire, Rose figured he was going for the extreme too-cool-to-care look. It just made him look perpetually confused.

"I know what I look like out here, but when we get inside, I'm going to look _amazing_ in the black lights."

Scorpius and Al exchanged unconvinced looks. The latter noticed Quincy standing beside Rose and thumbed in his direction. "Who's this?"

Lily took the liberty to answer. "This is Quincy. Rose's date that I acquired for her."

"He's not my date," she shot back. "And nobody says _acquired_. Makes you sound like you bought him half-price in a shop in Camberwell. Moreover, I feel we should probably further address the fact that you look like the second victim of the _zombie apocalypse_."

As usual, Lily ignored her. Primly. If that was even possible.

"Yes, he _is_ your date." A group of similarly dressed witches and wizards walked past them, laughing at something as they turned onto Knockturn Alley. Lily looked around for James and his girlfriend. They were late and Rose could already see the pinched look forming around her cousin's mouth. Pretty soon she would be frothing at the mouth. Lily folded her arms, giving Rose a judgmental once-over. "I see you followed the breadcrumbs to my gift."

"You put it on my bed with a sign that said _'wear this or else'_. It wasn't exactly subtle." Rose deadpanned. Lily looked rather chuffed. "Oh, and stop convincing my mum to let you into my flat."

"It was for a good cause."

"I'm not a charity case."

Lily just stared at her blankly until Rose maturely stuck out her tongue.

"I made you look smashing tonight." Lily gave her another critical once-over. "I like the bracelets, but you could've done with more war paint around your eyes. And your hair. You could've done something more dramatic with it. Braided ponytails are boring and lazy. And what _are_ your shoes? I left better ones for you, I'm sure of it. Why didn't you wear them?"

"Um." Rose gaped at her. "Perhaps I didn't want to fall over all night."

Lily scowled and Quincy bravely asked, "Is it always like this?"

"Pretty much." Scorpius muttered his first words of the evening, looking slightly put out. It could have been because he looked like he'd just stepped out of some new aged hipster magazine with his denims, band t-shirt, glasses, and messy hair. He caught her staring and patted down his hair in a poor attempt to fix it. "Lily made a proper mess with it."

"I made it better," she preened. "The just-woke-up look is in again with the Muggles."

Scorpius looked like someone who had long since run out of bothers to give.

Rose sidled up next to him, poking him in the side "You look like a cheesed off hipster. You're probably judging Lily's outfit right now, aren't you? Go on. Tell the truth."

"Piss off," Lily sulked. Al coughed to cover his amusement, but not well enough because it earned him a punch in the arm from his sister. Quincy then laughed at his not-so-manly yelp. Al shoved him in the arm.

As the childish shoving and laughing match ensued, Scorpius rolled his eyes and cracked a tiny smile that was tense around the edges. Rose didn't like it so she butted his arm with her head until he glared but lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She hugged him around the waist, resting her head on his chest. He smelled like sandalwood, mint, and oddly enough, old paper. "Been in a library?"

Scorpius absently played with the end of her braid as the tension literally bled from him. "My dad's. I needed to see if there was a Dreamless Draught potion that didn't include Flobberworm Mucus. I have a patient who is allergic."

"Your dedication to your patients is admirable. Are you off tomorrow?"

Scorpius nodded. "And Sunday, too, so I'll be at brunch."

"Me too. There's an apocalypse film out now. I know just how much you _love_ the end of the world."

"I think you're projecting again, but I'll come. Supper afterwards?"

"And I won't even complain about the vegetables."

Scorpius grinned.

"It's about time you two turned up!" Lilt screeched. Rose leaned back, bypassing the strange look Quincy was giving her, to see James and – okay, Rose wasn't going to pretend she knew her name – sheepishly approach them. They were wearing matching outfits. She rolled her eyes. That idiot's hopelessness knew no bounds.

"Sorry, Matilda had a late shift."

"Mishap in the Department of Mysteries," Matilda sighed. "It took _ages_ for everyone to decontaminate."

That seemed to placate Lily. She probably remembered that not every witch James dated was a complete idiot. "Let's just go and have fun. We all need it."

The rave was well underway when they checked their wands and bags in at the door. The base thumped so hard Rose felt it in her chest. It didn't hurt. It was just odd. No matter how many times she'd been dragged out, she'd never get used to the atmosphere. Her vision blurred under the harsh, flashing lights and she gripped Scorpius' hand tightly, twining their fingers together and let him guide her through the throngs of bodies gyrating to the driving baselines of the DJ she couldn't even see.

By some stroke of luck, they ended up at the packed bar. Al immediately got in line to order drinks. Rose relaxed her grip, but never let go. Lily attempted to shout instructions to everyone, probably about where they would meet when they were ready to leave, but no one paid her any mind.

James and Matilda disappeared before she finished.

Al reappeared seemingly out of thin air with five vials of pink liquid. _Potions._

"Inhibition potions? Really, Al?" Rose shouted as she dropped Scorpius' hand to take one.

"It's light. The barman said it'll just help us relax a tad. It'll last three hours, max."

Lily popped up next to him and snatched a vial. "Thanks!" She downed it and smirked at Rose. "Seeing as you look terrified, it might do you some good."

"Is this even safe?" she asked Scorpius, who was eyeing his vial sceptically.

"Looks like it," he uncapped his vial. "The darker they are, the more potent. This looks pretty light."

Quincy and Al clink their vials together and tossed the contents back with ease and then grinned. Their newfound camaraderie was disturbing on all levels and judging from the look on Scorpius' face, he agreed. Lily started dancing in place, shaking her hips to the beat of the music. Truth be told, Lily had been right. Under the lights of the club, she didn't look like she had an incurable disease. And Rose wasn't the only one who had noticed. A few blokes at the bar had their eyes on her cousin.

But then she did some move that made her look like a cartoon character and the universe righted itself once again.

Rose took her potion under everyone's watchful gaze. They all cheered in unison.

The effects were instant.

Rose felt her muscles relax and her heartbeat steady. She grabbed Quincy's arm and started dragging him towards the dance floor. Scorpius shot her a funny look. "I owe him a dance. Back soon."

"You can dance with me, Score," was the last thing she heard Lily say before she and Quincy vanished into the crowd.

They danced and jumped around for what felt like hours. Rose wasn't much of a dancer, but Quincy made up for it with a surprising amount of rhythm. He tried to teach her, but the potion wasn't strong enough to make her even attempt to shake her hips.

No. Just no.

Regardless, she was having fun, and for the first time tonight didn't seem like a colossal bad idea. Surprising. By the point of that realisation, she and Quincy weren't so much dancing together as they were dancing in front of each other. People kept cutting through them, in and out. Witches interested in Quincy; wizards interested in her. It was wicked hot from all the bodies in motion and she was probably being judged for doing a few moves that resembled The Robot that sent the last bloke on, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered. The music was exhilarating. Infectious.

And Rose regretted nothing.

It must have been getting late because the DJ started dialling down from the almost frantic tempo they'd set earlier to something almost hypnotic. It made Rose close her eyes and just sway from side to side. When she opened her eyes again, she spotted Quincy immediately. His hair wasn't going to survive the two witches who were gyrating against him.

He didn't seem to mind.

Familiar hands gripped her shoulders and she leaned back into the body behind her, knowing exactly who it was. They rocked together for a moment before Scorpius dipped his head to murmur into her ear. "Al took Lily home about ten minutes ago."

"Why?"

"She decided to mix the potion with four Firewhiskys and chucked up on some bloke's shoes. He didn't seem to mind. Or notice."

"Ouch," Rose winced. "She's going to feel like absolute rubbish for the rest of the weekend."

He agreed. "Anyway, I'm leaving, too. I have to go in. There's been another death."

Rose turned so they were face to face. Scorpius hair was matted to his forehead and he'd inherited a red skinny tie. "Now? But the potion—"

"Should be out my system by the time I get there. She was my patient." And he was troubled by it, she could see that much. "Look, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go."

"No." She grabbed him by the tie to stop him from leaving. "I'll come with you."

"You should stay." He looked over his shoulder at Quincy. "Make sure she gets home safely."

Rose ignored Quincy's nod and stared her best friend down. He looked right knackered more than anything. Frustrated and sad. He took each loss personally and harder than he probably should. "Not a damsel, I can find my way home. Not that it matters, since I'll be coming with you."

"No."

"Yes. End of story. I took a kip after work and I know for a _fact_ that you didn't. I'll wait, do some paperwork, something. I'll sort it out. Someone needs to make sure you don't collapse from exhaustion. And that someone is me. So get over it."

Scorpius sighed his acquiescence. Rose grinned and bounced over to Quincy.

"We're heading out. Have fun with Thing One and Two." She waggled her brows at him.

"I will," he flashed a grin. "Hey, Rose." He glanced over her shoulder where Scorpius still stood. When she shot him a questioning look, he continued. "You know, from before, you should've told me. I would've understood, but I'll catch you later, yeah?"

Rose nodded, but walked away completely confused. What?

**OOOOOOOOO**

By the time they arrived at St. Mungo's, security was on high-alert and the metaphorical red tape of bureaucracy was wrapped around the ward. Scorpius was immediately granted access as the victim's healer, but no amount of name-dropping and not event the sight of her mother's bushy hair could get her past the Aurors guarding the entrance to the ward.

"It's not my fault that your security is so flawed that—"

Scorpius dragged her to a corner before she could finish giving the Auror a piece of her mind. And probably get arrested for something in the process. "I'll be an hour. They'll want her medical files and a detailed account of her care from the day she was admitted. Shouldn't take long. Breakfast when I'm done?"

"You're paying, just so you know. And we better not go to some vegetarian place. I _refuse_ to eat fake bacon." Rose frowned at the mere thought. "_Fakeon_," she whispered in disgust. Scorpius laughed out loud and it made Rose smile in response. "And then we'll go to my flat and get some rest, yeah? Because I know you won't sleep at yours."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll drop by mine after breakfast and pick up extra clothes."

"Perfect. Now I'll go do some paperwork in Lavender's office and steal some of the candy she thinks I don't know about in her top drawer."

He snorted. "Save me some chocolate?"

"You closeted chocoholic, you." Rose emphasised each word with a poke to his chest.

Scorpius twisted away from her poking fingers. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Point made. "I—"

"Scorpius," Henrietta called from several feet away. She was in her Healer's robes, but judging from the state of her hair, she'd just rolled out of bed. Her arms were folded and she looked supremely stressed. "They're ready for you." And she walked away without so much as acknowledging Rose's presence.

"Hiya!" Rose called after her. Then shot her best friend a look. "Pretty sure she still hates me."

"I'm pretty sure she does, too." At least he had the decency to look apologetic about it. He loosened his skinny tie, put it on her, lightly tugged on the end of her braid, and followed Henrietta.

Rose loitered around for a bit before she left. Healer Brown's office had been a cyclone of unorganised files and loose papers when Rose had started. In a month she'd managed to tame the loose paper into three piles: important, research, and possible rubbish. And then she'd sub-divided those piles into: really important, meh, relevant research, useless research, definite rubbish, and possible rubbish.

And she hadn't even started organising the long-term patient files yet.

That was a beast she wanted to slay with loads of coffee. And candy.

Speaking of candy, Rose broke into the top drawer with a whispered _Alohamora_ and a flick of her wand. She spent the next few minutes enjoying a few handfuls of sour rind watermelons and flipping through dull research on aconite poisoning Lavender had left on her desk. She grabbed a few chocolate bars for Scorpius and got to work on clearing out the possible rubbish pile, moving a few papers to the research and important stacks.

Her stomach rumbled half an hour later, but she suppressed it with a piece of liquorice.

That didn't satisfy it for long. Ten minutes later, it rumbled again.

And again five pieces of candy later.

"I get it, stomach. You want real food. I get it. I want real food, too, but you don't hear me complaining." To which it replied with a loud rumble. "You win. Let's find Scorpius."

She straightened Lavender's desk, locked the top drawer, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind her. Rose took the elevator back to the trauma ward's floor, but before she could get round the corner towards the ward, she was approached by an Auror, who asked her for identification.

"Why?" Rose asked, but still flashed the badge she always carried in her beaded bag.

"This hall is off limits, Miss Weasley."

"On whose authority?"

The man lip twitched when he said, "Your mother's."

And, well, mum's authority in the Ministry knew no bounds. Rose was pretty sure there were a percentage of people out there who actually thought she _was_ the Minister. "So are all the halls off limits or just this one?"

"Just this one."

Rose got an idea because taking the detour route to the ward wasn't part of her plan. "Did you know that I went to a Muggle primary school? No? Well, I had an instructor who told me something fascinating. Did you know that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line?"

"How exactly is this relevant?"

"You see, I'm trying to get to the trauma ward and it's straight down that hall. Ignore the two lefts I have to make to get there and the rights, too. It's practically a straight line. I just think that in the interest of time, you should let me through. I won't tell a soul. Promise."

"Can't let you through."

"Is it because of my argument? Because I can come up with something better. That wasn't my best work, which isn't fair. You deserve the best."

"Don't bother. You're still not getting through."

"But I—" The stony look the Auror gave her made her point past him. "I'll just go that way. You have a… jolly time standing there. I'll just—"

"_Go_."

And she went, making sure he heard exactly how she felt about the grumpy gargoyle routine he had going there. Rose could have sworn she heard him chuckle as she rounded the corner, which was just disheartening.

Just like that, she'd been reduced to the comedic relief.

That was apparently a running theme for the evening, or rather early morning now.

Only bacon could help her regain her dignity. And maybe a pancake. Or five.

She ate her feelings, okay. And they were delicious with lemon juice and sugar.

And so on she walked, passing by rooms eight, nine, and ten; forced the long way around that sent her through the halls she walked with Lavender each day.

She quickly realised that it was different at night. The constant hum of activity and noise Rose thrived on during the days was nonexistent. It was dead, uncharacteristically so, and the silence made each footstep echo through the empty hall. So she began humming and taking louder steps with longer strides, because the one thing Rose hated more than her mum's cereal bars was the quiet. It activated her imagination, waking the part of her brain that was an _absolute_ drama queen and mystery novel fan.

But it was too late.

All of a sudden, she wasn't Rose Weasley taking a familiar detour to the trauma ward. No, she was a consulting detective, deducing her way to the cause of the phantom shift in the air.

What?

Rose froze, thinking her fantasy had gotten the better of her – somewhat – good sense. It had happened often enough, but really, it wasn't her fault. Her imagination was a by-product of all the stories her parents had told her of their time at Hogwarts. The mysteries and suspicion, three-headed dogs and acromantulas, and don't get her started on the revolving door that was the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Rose spent her entire First Year just _waiting_ for something to come along and threaten Al's life.

Yes, Al.

After all, he was the one who _looked_ the most like his dad so it was only fair that he be destined to have his life threatened by a nose-less wanker with a power complex and a fear of death. It worked in Rose's eleven-year-old mind, but not so much in reality. The worst thing that happened during First Year was that Al got the flu, threw up in his cauldron, and it exploded in his face. Needless to say, Rose's time at Hogwarts was positively _boring_ in comparison to her parents' but her imagination had always been there to keep life lively.

Unfortunately, the strangeness in the air had nothing to do with her imagination. It was real. It prickled her skin and dried her mouth, which was enough for a tiny voice in her head – a voice that sounded a lot like her dad – to say, _"Here be dragons."_ And really that was just uncalled for. All Rose wanted to do was get to a place in her day where she could sit down and satisfy her soul with food that had an alarming amount of calories.

So Rose walked on with purpose and extreme focus…for all of about three steps.

Because by then, she'd reached the end of the hall and the proverbial – okay, literal – fork in the road. Which wouldn't be such an issue on a normal day, but right now, she couldn't remember which way to go. And that. That wasn't normal. Rose looked to the right, then the left. She _knew_ her way around, of course, she had it memorised and categorised in her mind along with the rest of St. Mungo's. The layout wasn't complex. If a corporeal messenger Patronus could find its way, so could she.

Confidence restored, Rose went left.

And then quickly turned on her heels and jogged in the other direction.

Not that it mattered.

Nothing looked familiar.

But Rose walked on, slowly and carefully, ignoring all the feelings of unease that seemed to grow with every turn she took. Right. Left. Left. Right. Every hall looked the same – bright, shiny, and white – nothing distinguishing one corridor from another, like a whiteout in a snowstorm. Room eight. Room Nine. Room Ten. Rose considered finding her way back to the Auror, because, really, to hell with this. But the problem with that was that it didn't feel like a life choice that would result in anything other than further confusion. And frustration.

And there was plenty of that building, so much that it blurred her vision. In no way did any of this make sense. Rose knew her way around. She knew the hospital; could find her way with her eyes shut. She shouldn't – no, _couldn't_ – be lost or confused or second-guessing herself like she was. It defied every shred of logic.

Rose stopped and rested her forehead against the wall as she did her best to think of a way out. She didn't realise how fast her heart was pounding and how badly her hands were shaking until right then. Merlin, it felt like her chest was about to _implode_; like there something on it, pressing it, and pushing it inward. Rose's only outlet was to close her eyes and take a few of those cleansing breaths her mum had taught her. In the nose and out the mouth.

_Again._

_Inhale. Exhale. _

_Slower._

She had to get it together. Now wasn't the time for panic. There wasn't even a reason for such a thing. This was all in her head. All she had to do was get back on the right track. Where was she again? Room Eight. Right. Breathe. She had to find her way to Scorpius and breakfast and a place where she could laugh about this little non-adventure. _Breathe._

And she did just that until her breathing slowed and her ears stopped ringing. Her stomach grumbled. Rose was about to lament on the irony of starving in three floors from the cafeteria, but remembered the chocolate bars.

Sorry Scorpius, but survival of the fittest and all that.

Rose bit into the bar, savouring the flavour.

The overhead lights flickered.

Peering up curiously, she took another bite and shrugged it off. Nothing. It was nothing. St. Mungo's was an old, creepy hospital. And sure, the hospital boasted about the fact that they ran on a supply of magic that wouldn't fail long enough for the lights to flicker. But in the end, it was still old. Old and unreliable with flickering lights. Old and creepy.

The lights flickered again.

And _again_.

Seven years of being in Slytherin taught her that if something happened once, it was an accident. Twice was a coincidence. Three times – well that just meant something was wrong and she needed to make a tactful retreat. With speed. And tact. Which Rose _would have done_ had the lights not flickered once more and plunged the entire hall into darkness.

Which was just _perfect_.

Because suddenly she was in a poor remake of every stupid horror movie and that meant she was going to be the first one to die. Or get eaten. And she wasn't even dressed like a slag. Not fair.

Another thing that wasn't fair: the sliver of light peeking from beneath the door in front of her; a light that grew brighter, hotter, and more intense the more she stared. Because _that_ was completely normal. Dread and every other conceivable negative emotion slammed into her like – like a _curse_. Like a spell. Like _magic_. And that was…well, it was the only explanation for everything.

This was all part of some spell – a _ward._ A very powerful one, all things and her trip to the edge of sanity considered. Rose knew a lot about wards. Some were designed to be undetectable, but others deterred undesirables who got too close using any sort of method. It all depended on the intent of the caster. Most played with a person's mind, distracting them until they left, but there were a few out there that played dirty to the point that anyone who came too close tended to ignore the obvious.

Like, for instance, the fact that she'd passed by Room Eight more than once tonight.

Room Eight. The glowing room.

Probably not a coincidence.

She forced all the – likely magic-induced – emotions to the back of her mind and chewed her chocolate bar slowly, looking around to see if the lights to rooms nine and ten were on, but they weren't. Just this one.

Room Eight.

And it was pulsing dangerously bright as if to warn her off. She almost thought about listening, almost grabbed her wand and used it to guide her down the dark hall, but there was…_something_. A feeling, well more like a morbid curiosity coupled with the realisation that the only way out of the maze was to find its centre.

A glowing room, well, that was just it, right?

Rose took a final bite of chocolate and stood to her feet. Everything – every single shred of her good sense and survival instinct told her to leg it far and fast, but Rose's mind was made up. Someone once said that only way out of hell was to go through it. So she stood on shaky legs, making sure she had her wand in her hand and her wits about her. Rose approached the door, resting her hand on the oddly warm knob, turning, pushing the door open slowly.

And of course, the door's squeal announced her presence.

Just great.

She pushed the door open because, hell, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon, and all that…

Immediately, she wished he hadn't.

Rose stumbled forward, all her senses bombarded by light and feelings of dread and the smell of something that burned _everything_. She dropped to her knees, coughing and eyes watering, clutching her ears to block out…something. The dread? She didn't know, but it helped Rose momentarily regain her senses and breath. She forced her eyes open and—

Standing over a sleeping patient was a person shrouded in a dark cloak, speaking in an unfamiliar language and clutching a dagger that glowed brighter with each word. The words burned in Rose's ears as the air thickened to the point where it felt almost liquid. Rose desperately gasped for the breath she couldn't find, body trembling and tears pouring from her eyes. She was _drowning_. Disbelief and terror bled into shock, leaving a sort of defiant horror in the hollow of where Rose's heart had practically stopped beating.

And then it all stopped.

The air cleared and the room was plunged into an empty silence that only Rose's harsh, gasping breaths filled. The silence did something else: it shook her from her stupor to the point where she could open her eyes. She didn't even bother to wipe the tears from her cheeks, because why bother when something was standing in front of you that wasn't there before.

Or rather someone.

Bloody hell, she really _was_ going to die. How rude.

She craned her head upward. Rose couldn't see the face behind the hood, not that it mattered, because she found herself staring at the dagger – the dagger that was now glowing red. Rose's heart started racing as she held up what was left of her sweet treat and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Chocolate?"

There was no reaction.

"Oh go on." She tried again, voice shaking. "Everyone loves chocolate. Yummy, yummy, yum!" Rose choked on her nervous laughter, extending her hand out further; the wrapper nearly touching the cloak.

Still nothing.

"No? Well, I'll just take this delicious treat elsewhere and—"

"You shouldn't be here, Rose Weasley."

The voice was too high to be male, but too low to be female, and that was as far as she analysed it. Because the second they said her name, Rose's heart exploded somewhere around her knees and she panicked. Clumsily, she scrambled to her feet, stumbling backwards in an attempt to escape. Not that it mattered. Before she could reach the door, much less regain her balance, the door shut behind her with a resounding slam.

Of course it did.

"Leaving so soon?" the person asked.

"That was the plan."

The hooded person stepped towards her.

Rose almost backed against the door in a bout of reflexive terror, but stopped herself. _Never back yourself into a corner_, her dad had always said. Right. She dropped the chocolate and stepped forward, keeping her eyes trained on the red dagger. "So is this the part where you get stabby or are we just going to continue to stare at each other?" She raised her hand. "Not that you care about my opinion on the matter, but I am for anything that keeps me at about a zero on the pain scale. I'm just tossing that out in the universe." Rose paused. "Sure you don't want any chocolate? I have plenty in my—"

"One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."

"Far too late for that, I think. I'm here, aren't I?"

The hooded person looked askance at her. "Actually, that's what I want to know. How are you here? My wards—"

"Are flawless. I'm not sure which part I liked better: the part where it had me wandering around in circles like a dying bloke in the desert or the part where I nearly went nutters and had to talk myself out of having a much-deserved panic attack. Bloody brilliant, really."

"Fascinating," the person drawled, "That doesn't explain how you made it past them."

"I'm going to go with something I like to call 'Genetically-Inherited Dumb Luck'. I got it from my dad."

"Next time I'll be sure to ward against that, too." And they pulled off their hood.

In the dimness of the room, all Rose could see was dark hair and facial features that didn't seem right or natural, the face was feminine and not at the same time. Probably a glamour. She always had a hard time telling for sure. Where was Lily when Rose needed her? She could pick out any sort of glamour from across the room.

Rose watched the person as they carefully placed the still-glowing dagger on the bed of the sleeping – or likely comatose – patient. She thought about hexing them good and escaping, but that didn't seem like the best idea, especially when they knew a bit more wandless magic than she did. Summoning wands? Rose had that down. But shutting doors?

Not so much.

They had their back to her when they said, "You made a wise decision not to attack just now."

"More like tactical."

"You really are like your mother."

Rose instinctively tightened her grip on her wand, readying for a fight. "Is this the part where you tell me that I know too much and can't stroll out of here alive?"

They turned, wand in hand. That cloak clearly had a few pockets. "No, it's actually the part where I alter your memories to make you believe that you're the one who's been causing all the unexplained deaths. And then wait for a few months before continuing my…well, mission, if you will."

Mission?

"That's actually sort of brilliant, but I'm going to have to pass on that inevitable trip to Azkaban. The North Sea does nothing for my complexion."

"I had a feeling you might say that."

Rose's stomach churned, knowing just what she'd have to do to make it out of there with her memories intact. She wasn't much of a dueller in the traditional sense, preferring to let her words and reputation fight her battles, which had worked just fine for her until now.

She took a step back.

The person chuckled, low and menacing. "This is going to be easier than I thought."

Rose absently wished she'd attended at least one Duelling Club meeting, but realised it probably wouldn't have done her any good. She never saw the point of practising spell-casting reflexes when there was nothing on the line. Just because Rose could fire a counter-spell when someone was trying to make her do a jig, didn't mean she would be able to do the same when fighting for her life.

"_Stupefy!_"

Apparently, she'd been wrong about that.

Because the moment she heard the spell, Rose had it blocked before her brain caught up to what was happening. The same went for the next three spells: two different stunners and a malevolent-looking blue light that she'd never seen before. Rose was so dazed from her surprise duelling ability that she had to duck to avoid another stunner from hitting her in the chest. As she straightened, Rose brushed the fringe from her face and huffed, "You could've given me some warning. Voldemort let my uncle pick up his wand, for Merlin's sake!"

"Voldemort just wanted to prove he was the better wizard. I, on the other hand, could care less. _Crucio!_"

Rose knew what was coming and all she could think was _help me_. She tried to prepare herself, relax her muscles, focus on something, breathe, but who was she kidding? Her vision blurred and muddled as her body exploded in a particular brand of searing pain she'd never experienced before. It was indescribable, electric, and all she could do was fold in on herself and _feel_.

It was all too much, too intense, and all-consuming. She lost track of everything: time, place, and even her own mind. It was as if she were being _annihilated_ from the inside out, like every layer of skin was being stripped away and burned. The pressure was too much. Her head was going to explode. Unconsciously, Rose ground her teeth together to relieve some of the stress. But it didn't work. She heard them say _'Crucio'_ again, with more emphasis, and everything became hotter and even more agonising. Rose was sweating, felt it running down her cheeks, or were they tears? She didn't care to figure it out. She tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. She tried to focus on something, but she couldn't concentrate over the taste of copper in her mouth and the sound of her own feral screams.

But then it was over and an infinite numbness swept through her. Part of her body screamed _pain_, her mind yelled _danger_, but she was too overwhelmed and exhausted to ascertain anything really. All she could do was gather her wits. Rose heard the person move, saw them grab her legs. "Hurts, doesn't it?" They asked as they dragged her further into the room. "The good thing is that, after this, you won't remember the—"

Rose used every bit of strength to kick out and by some miracle, she landed a blow to their face. Drops of blood landed on her denims as Rose's tormentor dropped her legs in shock and staggered back, clutching their bleeding nose and swearing darkly. Groaning, Rose rolled over to her stomach and tried to get to her feet and leg it, but her stomach was rolling and her knees weren't working right.

Not that it mattered anyway, because all she heard was an angry, "_Stupefy!_"

And then she heard nothing at all.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** This chapter was deleted or whatever. Dunno why. Fixed! Thanks anon, for letting me know.


	6. Better Than I Know Myself

*****So this is unbeta'd. My beta is dealing with end of the year stuff, and hasn't gotten to it yet, but I'm posting this now because of writer's guilt and impatience. Warning again, I wrote this in about four days after spending months on a draft of this that I ended up hating. The beta'd version will be up as soon as I get it back, so if you see spag errors, you know they'll be fixed. I'd probably give it another read when I do update it because some things might have changed a bit. :D**

* * *

**Chapter Six – Better Than I Know Myself**

The Trauma ward was in controlled chaos.

To patients and their families, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The ward, while nearing capacity, was quiet with low lighting, closed doors, and the occasional beep to alert a Medi that their patient was in need of assistance. They transferred four patients to more specialised wards to complete their recovery and handled three emergencies. The most memorable being a Department of Mysteries employee with newly diagnosed case of Vanishing Sickness. It was likely fatal, judging from the rate his body parts were disappearing, but it gave them the perfect excuse. So if anyone complained about the ward's lockdown or that no one was allowed out of their rooms, well, it was just because they wanted to quarantine the area.

Vanishing sickness was contagious and fatal, after all.

Not to worry, though. It was for everyone's safety.

Every employee, however, knew otherwise.

Scorpius noticed the tension almost immediately. It wasn't palpable. Just the little things. Like the haunted looks on a couple of the Medi-witches and the Healer Assistant's faces, and the panic on some of the Healer's faces. They all were afraid to lose their jobs. And, truthfully, he couldn't blame them. They all were. Scorpius chanced a look back, eyes searching for Rose, but only managed to catch a moment of turquoise denims and auburn hair before the doors automatically shut. His stomach clenched anxiously.

That afternoon he'd been combing through the Manor's library, looking for a replacement for Flobberworm Mucus because Ms. Shingleton was allergic, and now she was…just _gone_. He couldn't fathom it. They'd worked tirelessly to keep her alive after she'd been badly injured during a potions accident in her home over six months ago, and just when she was making a turn for the better…

It was disheartening.

Ms. Shingleton was about his father's age, with no living family and friends who had never bothered to visit. She was alone. When she'd awoken from her induced coma three months ago, Scorpius had started checking up on her more often. _Getting attached_, Henrietta had said, shooting her customary _'I have opinions on this' _look. She'd always kept herself emotionally distant from her patients; it was what made her a good Healer. Scorpius did the same, but also knew that loneliness itself was a killer.

He never visited long, or everyday. Maybe twice a week; whenever he could make time. First, he'd just talked with her about her road to recovery because she couldn't speak. Then, he'd started reading to her and telling her stories about his friends that made her smile. Scorpius brought her books and newspapers and a wireless to make her recovery easier. And when she started talking again three weeks ago, she told him about her life, about her husband who had been killed trying to protect her from Snatchers, her parents who had died long before that, and how she spent her time volunteering and making hard to come by potions for the poor.

She was a good person, but now was nothing but a name on a growing list.

"Sorry to have pulled you away from your night out…with your friends." Henrietta's voice sounded a bit odd, but he didn't have the energy to comment. Scorpius looked at his friend as they rounded another corner, heading towards the meeting room. He started to question her tone, but they had bigger problems than Hentietta's disapproval of his friends. Or rather, of Rose. That was a problem one conversation couldn't fix.

"It's fine," he replied. "I want to be here. I'm—well, I was Ms. Shingleton's primary Healer. It's only right for me to be here."

"I agree, but you're probably knackered and nothing is going to change before a reasonable hour. I could bring you breakfast later and we can discuss the meeting then."

"Thanks, but I'd rather be here. Rose is here to make sure I don't drop anywhere, but since they wouldn't let her in, she's going to work on paperwork for Healer Brown—"

"Or take a kip."

Which was entirely likely, knowing Rose, but Henrietta's tone was too disparaging for him to comment without getting defensive. "We're going to breakfast after this. You're welcome to join us."

Henrietta's brow rose slowly, disbelief all over her face. "Rose wouldn't mind?"

"You don't like her," he said bluntly, because there was no point in being modest. Still, Henrietta gave him a sharp look. "What? It's not a secret. She even knows. You aren't exactly an expert at hiding your feelings, but she doesn't care. You've been my friend since Second Year, so as long as you don't antagonise her or keep her from eating, she won't mind."

She had the decency to look properly chastened. "I…I'd like that. To come along, I mean."

"That's settled, then." He didn't waste another moment on that awkward topic. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour, but it was long enough to learn that Healer Fleet's assistant, Rowan, found Ms. Shingleton at nine when she went to check on her because she hadn't requested supper. It's been estimated that she'd been dead around three hours—"

_Six o'clock_. "That's during a shift change, but why did it take so long to call this meeting?"

"Well, they had to secure the scene, get statements from Rowan and everyone on shift, they had to call in a Squib to examine her body because, like with all the others, the magical tests they ran did nothing except corrode her body. They're about to move her if you want to go see for yourself."

Scorpius shook his head, feeling vaguely ill at the thought. "Did you?"

"Yes." At the prodding look he gave her, she continued on. "Everything was exactly the same as the others: She was tucked in; her arms placed at her sides, pillows fluffed, and there was soft music playing…like they wanted her to be comfortable. She was extremely pale, as if the life had been drained out of her. No fresh marks on her; aside from the degrading the magical tests had done before someone rushed in and told them to stop what they were doing. The examiners were new. They didn't know about the 'no magic' rule."

He remained silent for a few moments, but Henrietta chattered on.

"My only question is: how did they get in?"

Scorpius was glad she'd stopped talking about the state of Ms. Shingleton's body like she was explaining the state of the economy, but thought the answer to her question was simple. "She died around six. At that time of day, there would be people coming and going; it would be easy to slip in unnoticed. Despite all the meetings about vigilance, nobody pays attention to their surroundings."

"True," she tucked a stray bit of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm guilty of that myself. We don't walk the halls expecting a – for lack of a better word – a murderer to pass us."

_Murderer_.

His brain hadn't quite made the leap from 'unexplained deaths' to 'murder'. Perhaps because no one had uttered the word since they started connecting the deaths. Because then it would be real, and it all was just absurd. Someone killing people. In a hospital.

Scorpius could feel Henrietta's eyes on him. "Care to share? You had your thoughtful face on."

He shook his head, the lie coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I was thinking about the particulars."

"Such as?"

"We have identification badges to stop unauthorized people from entering the hospital's individual wards so it isn't as if you – or any of us – are overlooking a _stranger_—" Scorpius frowned. "I'm not saying that it's impossible; someone could have gotten their hands on the proper clearance to gain access to the entire hospital, but it's unlikely. Highly."

Her eyes widened. "So you're saying—"

"Three sects of people could pull this off repeatedly. Patients, their families, and staff, but the first is even more unlikely than a stranger walking in off the streets and the second's movements are strictly regulated as of late, it's easy to conclude—"

She grabbed him by the arm, looked around before dragging him into an empty room. She looked around again before shutting the door and spinning around. In a harsh whisper, she said, "If you're going to say what I think you are, it would be wise not to accuse anyone within earshot of anyone else."

"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm merely pointing out the facts."

"You believe someone on _staff_ would do this."

Scorpius rubbed the back of his neck. "It sounds worse when you say it aloud."

"That's because it _is _bad!" Henrietta shouted, then covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide as saucers. She waited, probably for someone to burst into the room because she was high strung like that, but relaxed when no one came. Scorpius just waited for her to continue, and quickly at that, because the meeting would be starting soon. "Look, after the war, St. Mungo's established itself as a safe place. The hospital does everything possible to make sure they're hiring the right people, you _know_ that. And if it gets out that a staff member is going around killing patients, it would just be _catastrophic_, so you can't just walk around saying things like that where people can hear you."

And she opened the door and left.

But that didn't make it any less of a possibility.

* * *

Scorpius was in the last in the final group of stragglers to enter the nearly full meeting room, which had earned him a _look_ from Henrietta and a half-smile from the head of MLE, Hermione Granger-Weasley, who sat just to the right of the head hospital administrator. Tilting her head to the side, she looked past him for her daughter and Scorpius shook his head. She seemed momentarily puzzled, but said nothing so Scorpius took one of the few remaining seats between a Mediwitch and a worried-looking Healer and pointedly did not listen to the quiet discussion about their job security the Healer was having with the Mediwizard sitting next to him.

It was something he pointedly did not want to think about.

The Ministry had done everything to keep the story about the 'unexplained deaths' silent until they figured out what exactly was going on, but people were still dying. And with each death, the chance of St. Mungo's dirty secret going public was becoming more and more of a reality. Scorpius knew how Wizarding London would react. Henrietta had been right, after all. This all was bigger than them. It was about the hospital as a whole. If people knew, their reputation would be destroyed, funding and donations would dry up, and the public cry for answers and justice would cost several of them their jobs.

And Scorpius couldn't help but think that despite all the good he'd done since joining the staff, his surname would be his downfall.

Despite all the reparations his family had paid since the war, their good deeds, and public scrutiny they'd endured, in the eyes of many, the Malfoys were still up to no good. Oh, they were gossiped about and their parties and galas were highly-anticipated events, but when things went wrong, people looked at them first. It angered his grandparents to the point of exhaustion, but his father wasn't concerned for himself.

"_Forgiveness doesn't come so easily."_ His father had told him just before he left for Hogwarts. _"I'll likely spend the rest of my life making up for my mistakes and the sins of my father, but I've come to terms with that. I've been forgiven by some, which is more than I could've asked for. The only thing I regret is what my sins will do to you. What they have already done."_

But Scorpius hadn't suffered, not in the way he could've had he not had Albus and Rose and their families accepting him. They protected him from the public in a way his father never could, and he'd been fortunate in a way other children and grandchildren of former Death Eaters hadn't. The public genuinely liked him, treated him with a respect no one in his family had received since his father was a child, and his association with these deaths threatened it all.

Scorpius believed it more when the Auror sitting across from him eyed him suspiciously. He met the older Auror's eyes and didn't shy away because truthfully, if his father's sins had indeed caught up with him, Scorpius would bear it without resentment. Not out of some demented sense of duty, but because his father's mistakes had made Scorpius into the man he was today.

Father protected him from the ambitions of his family and made sure Scorpius knew it wasn't his fault when his mother decided she only wanted to be bothered with either of them when it best suited her. He raised Scorpius to be humble, to make his own decisions, be his own person, and to stand up for what he believed. He taught Scorpius patience and acceptance, integrity and self-control. His father wanted him to be different, _better_, than he had been. He told Scorpius all about his history, especially the ugly and horrific parts, so that he'd never repeat it. His father had been there for him from the beginning, at every milestone, every Quidditch game and event, and never let Scorpius question once if he was loved. He was proud to be a Malfoy, and if being a Malfoy ultimately cost him his job at St. Mungo's, well, he'd—well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

The hospital administrator – a man named Angus Wigworthy, who was in his early nineties and oddly reminded him of a taller relative of Professor Flitwick – called the meeting to order and everyone sat up a bit straighter in their chairs, Scorpius included.

"I'm sure everyone in here knows why we're here today. There has been another mysterious death." _Murder_, Scorpius replaced in his mind and his stomach didn't roll at the thought. Henrietta gave him a pointed look that spoke volumes about her disapproval of his thought processes, but he ignored it.

When Mr. Wigworthy launched into an overly-clinical lecture abut Mrs. Shingleton's death and how it linked to the others, Scorpius tuned the man out. He knew enough already and didn't want to hear him talk about her – or any of the victims – as if they were nothing more than pieces to a puzzle they all wanted to put together sooner rather than later.

"For the safety of our patients, their families, and staff, we're trying our best to keep these deaths contained until we figure out who or what is behind this, and we need everyone's help. We ask that you not gossip about the cases with anyone outside of the hospital. And—"

"Excuse me," Hermione Granger-Weasley stood up. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Oh, please go ahead. I was nearly finished."

She smiled graciously at the man and cleared her throat before addressing the room. Henrietta sat up straight. She didn't like Rose much, but as a fellow Muggle-born, she respected Hermione greatly. "I just want you all to remember that there are _people_, who have died prematurely and under mysterious circumstances. They have family and friends that mourn them; children and grandchildren that will grow up without them. If we lose sight on that, we lose sight on everything. As the investigation continues, we should _all_ continue to treat them with the respect they deserve."

People around Scorpius nodded, some of the bigger gossipmongers looked a bit humbled.

If it was possible, Rose's mum grew even higher in his esteem, just for those words alone. It probably wasn't, after all, he respected her nearly as much as he did his own father. She invited him to every Weasley family event and vacation, took him in when Father went on business trips, and hugged him every time she saw him. Rose's mum took him to his first amusement park and helped him through each bout of air sickness during flights to Australia. She showed him how to use a computer at eleven, took him to his first Muggle library at thirteen, and taught him how to surf at twelve and how to drive at eighteen. One time, when he'd fled to their house after a particularly nasty argument with him mother, Scorpius asked Hermione why she cared so much about him. She ruffled his hair and said eight words that left him quiet for hours: _"We may not be blood, but we're family."_

Hermione moved to head of the table so everyone could see her. She flashed a reassuring smile, clasping her hands together. "I understand this is a scary time for everyone, with the extra security, the rumours floating around, and the lack of answers thus far. The MLE is working hard to get justice for the victims and to restore normality around here. In the meantime, we have to remain calm, poised, and united."

"But what about our jobs?" The Healer next to him asked.

"They are secure, as far as I know," she answered patiently. "The MLE has determined that these mysterious deaths are not the result of negligence on the hospital staff's behalf."

"Have you determined their cause of death then?"

"We have not. However, we do know a few things that we did not know a few weeks ago, thanks to a Squib Pathologist who has been examining the bodies. I can't share everything because of the ongoing investigation."

A few people shifted in their chairs, but nothing was said.

"I know we continue to ask this, but the best defence is a good offence, and we all have to be more in tune with our surroundings." A few people rolled their eyes. Constant vigilance was a term everyone was sick of hearing. "I know you all are sick of us telling you that, but you all know these halls better than any of us. You know what looks normal and what doesn't. And if you see anything or have information, you can share it with an Auror or anonymously, by note. Mr. Wigworthy has so graciously set an office up for my staff inside the hospital. I will be there weekdays during the afternoon hours." Hermione looked around the room, trying to be as comforting as possible. "This is an excellent hospital with a wonderful staff and we _will_ figure out what's going on here."

And she went back to her seat.

Everyone seemed a bit calmer after that.

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing current security measures, followed by a twenty-minute questions session that left Scorpius a bit dazed. His stomach had started rumbling halfway through so by the time Mr. Wigworthy released them, he was all too ready to leave. Henrietta was talking to an Auror so he waited outside the meeting room for her.

Hermione came out moments later with a fidgeting Mediwitch, patting her on the shoulder as she said, "If you have any further questions, Lynette, just let me know."

Lynette nodded shyly and vanished down the hall. Hermione turned to Scorpius as her reassuring smile faded into a softer one that seemed to be reserved for family. She gave him a quick hug before pulling back to look him over. "You look knackered."

"I am," Scorpius replied. "We came straight here from the rave."

"Rose is here?"

"They wouldn't let her in because she doesn't work in this ward, so she went to do some organising for Healer Brown while she waited." The meeting room door opened and a few more people trickled out, chattering to themselves as they went. He waited until they were well out of earshot before he said, "If I propose a theory—"

"You know you can tell me anything, Scorpius."

He knew, but for some reason telling her his theory made it real in a way that twisted his stomach in knots. But he told her anyway. "I don't think there's a some_thing_ that's causing all this. I think it's someone. Probably on staff. It's too neat to be coincidence and—"

"I agree."

He gaped at her. "Then why haven't—"

"We started calling them murders or told everyone that there's a _serial killer _amongst them?" Hermione finished. Scorpius nodded. "Because that makes people panic, which is the very last thing we need. The more contained this is, the better for everyone. We still don't who it is or know how they're killing them without leaving marks. Harry initially thought it was The Killing Curse when he looked through the files, but the effect of magic on the victim's bodies after death makes me think it's something else entirely."

"Like what?"

"We're not entirely sure, but we've been testing everything we can possible think of. Harry wanted to help, but every case he takes becomes high-profile, so we're been doing research at my house with Ron, but we haven't had much luck. We have a few employees in the DOM working with us, as well as a few Squib liaisons with Muggle medical experience examining the bodies for evidence, but no one has found anything significant, other than the fact that their hearts are damaged."

Scorpius was confused. "But their bodies aren't damaged."

"I know. It makes no sense, but when the Pathologist cut into the bodies, he said their hearts were badly damaged." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I hate to say it, but I'm waiting for them to make a mistake."

"Why?"

"Because there have been seven killings in nearly four months and the MLE office is no closer to finding out the truth than we were when we started investigating. Think about it: what do we actually know about this person?"

"They know a lot about the hospital and they're a bit ritualistic," Scorpius answered, thinking about Mrs. Shingleton's fluffed pillows and the music playing by her bed side.

"Yes, and they're patient and meticulous, more and more confident with each killing, but they don't seem to be on a particular schedule. The first was the sloppiest because the woman was awake at the time of the attack, but so many magical tests had been done that nothing was viable." Hermione pulled face, but her voice was confident. "Sooner or later, the killer is going to slip up, it always happens, but until then, we're gathering as much information and investigating staff and administration."

Scorpius looked at her, astonished. "You're investigating all of us?"

"Have been for weeks, now," Hermione answered frankly.

A lot of things started making much more sense. "That's why your staff has an office here now."

"It makes things easier when people willingly tell us what we need to know."

"You weren't supposed to tell me any of this, were you?" he asked wryly.

"Not at all," Hermione smiled, "But you had nothing to do with this."

"Some might say otherwise. Auror Sheppley looked at me today like he wanted to drag me off to the Wizengamot himself."

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sheppley is an old bat who believes my place is at home, cooking and cleaning and keeping house. He's hardly someone to take seriously. We're all waiting for him to retire. I have twenty Galleons on next year." She shot him a conspiratorial look and smile. "He has a bad hip."

Scorpius couldn't help but flash a small smile.

Glancing at her watch, Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder. "It's late – or early, depending on how you look at it. You should probably go dig my wayward child out of her mountain of paperwork and go get some rest."

His smile widened at the thought of Rose in a mountain of parchment, looking rumpled. "Rose is supposed to meet us outside the ward. We're going to breakfast with Henrietta. You can join us, too. I'm picking the restaurant so it won't be a fry up or a sketchy kebab stand."

She laughed. "Thanks, but I've got loads of work to do and Ron made me promise to at least get five hours of sleep. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can hold up my end of the bargain. But you're more than welcome to come tonight for supper. Ron's doing fish and chips, it's the only thing he can make without burning down the kitchen, but I can make you that chickpea curry you liked so much."

It was tempting. She always made enough for him – and by default, Al, who was a lazy sod and bottomless pit – to have leftovers for days. "I'd like that, but Rose is dragging me to the cinema this afternoon and we're going for supper after, but I'm not sure if we're still going." He checked his watch. It was closer to five o'clock than it was to four. "I doubt it. I'll likely sleep _through_ the afternoon."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "And you'll wake up hungry. How about you both just come over, we'll have supper, and you two can catch the later show. Just tell Rose I'm making apple pie from scratch and her dad brought ice cream from The Burrow and she'll come running. It'll be a bit like Pavlov's dogs."

They both laughed and laughed until Scorpius saw something just a few feet away that made him pause, tilting his head curiously to get a better look.

It was a light, intense but translucent, and strangely familiar. It changed right before his eyes, distending as though it were elastic and trying to force itself into a particular shape, but could only morph into something unrecognisable and…wrong. There was a strangeness about it that made him believe it was some sort of exhaustion-induced hallucination.

Scorpius shut his eyes, counted to five, and reopened them.

It was still there, still hovering, but flickering like a memory caught on film that had been replayed so many times that the colours faded to a grainy grey and white. Scorpius jolted when it stopped flickering, the movement caused Hermione to turn to see what had grabbed his attention. And for a long moment, they both stared, transfixed, as it changed. It looked…hurt. _Wounded_. Which was absurd. It was just smoke and light and haze. Energy. Magic.

It was just someone's listless Patronus.

Scorpius dismissed that idea.

Corporeal Patronuses, all the ones he'd seen, moved quickly and energetically; this one hovered close to the ceiling, remaining motionless as it seemed to fight its way into a certain shape.

Without thinking, he took a slow step towards it.

Hermione raised her hand to stop him, her other hand gripping her wand tight. How she had managed that, he didn't know. "Something's wrong with it. Draw your wand." She told him in hushed tones, her eyes still locked on the approaching light.

Scorpius did it without question.

It started changing again, stretching and jerking almost tiredly, pushing and pulling on itself as if it were fighting its way out. And that was when it started making noise. A distorted scream that chilled him to the bone and some garbled, unintelligible words that sounded like a plea, a prayer. It flickered out for what seemed like eternity and when it came back, it had settled on a shape – an animal – they both knew well.

An otter.

Hermione took a careful breath and called her daughter's name, the quiet panic in her voice unmistakable. "This isn't funny, R—"

The otter exploded in a bright flash that made both him and Hermione close their eyes and turn their heads. When they looked back there was only mist. Before he could even process what had just happened, Scorpius was running after Hermione.

* * *

He ran.

Or rather, he followed Hermione down the long hallway that led to the entrance of the Trauma Ward, drawing questioning looks from everyone they passed.

He knew what she was hoping for and quietly wished for the same: that Rose would be waiting outside, hands on her hips and complaining about how she was wasting away to practically nothing while waiting for him. He would take her _'Feed Me, Seymour'_ impressions and her unflappable love of pork over the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach any day.

They flashed their identification at the one of the two Aurors manning the exit, handed over their wands for checking, and exchanged looks as they waited for the doors to open. He wanted to say something, but was too busy trying to remain the picture of calm.

Not that his words would have helped in the end.

Rose wasn't there.

The entire area was empty, save for the Auror who had let Scorpius through what felt like hours ago. Scorpius dropped into the chair closest to the wall while Hermione had a quiet conversation with the Auror, who then turned and walked through the double doors when she finished speaking. Hermione sat next to him, silent for only a beat. "According to Auror Limmus, no one has come through here in the last half hour. I told him that if he doesn't hear from me in twenty minutes, he's to follow protocol and organise a sweep of the entire hospital."

Scorpius stood up. "What are we going to do, then?"

"If something _has_ happened, we need to find her before they do so I'm going to Apparate down to Healer Brown's office to see if she's there, and if she isn't, we're going to search this floor ourselves."

He pulled face. "I thought only Healers could freely Apparate around the hospital."

Hermione pulled out her wand. "I have special clearance." And was gone with a soft pop.

Scorpius barely had time to think before Henrietta emerged from the double doors.

"I thought you were going to wait for me. Where's Rose?"

Scorpius opened his mouth to answer, but didn't know what to say. He knew that if he told her, she would say, _"You shouldn't worry until you have enough evidence to."_ Henrietta was predictable like that, and that mindset wasn't working for him. All he could think about was the flickering, damaged Patronus. The otter that had exploded. "I'm not sure." He answered slowly when she silently prodded him for an answer. "She was supposed to be here."

"It's just like her to be late."

He didn't have time to tell her about what he'd seen because Hermione returned alone, surprising Henrietta, who jumped back. "She's been down there – oh, hello, Henrietta."

"Who's been down where?" She asked in lieu of a greeting. "What's going on?"

Hermione left Scorpius to enlighten her, walking to the other end of the hallway to send up a message of her own. He caught a glimpse of her otter before it vanished. His friend was still staring at him expectantly, so he just blurted, "Rose's Patronus message exploded."

"Explain." His friend's face went through several increasingly confused faces during his rushed retelling of events and by the end, all she could say was, "Sorry…what?"

"That's all I know." From the corner of his eye, Scorpius saw Hermione listening to a message from a Jack Russell, her frown deepening. After she sent two messages, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly worried, but the look was gone when she walked back over to them. "I sent Ron to check her flat, but she isn't there, so—"

"She's somewhere in the hospital," he concluded.

Hermione nodded. "She was down there, working on papers, judging from the note she left for Lavender saying she needed a bigger rubbish bin. I told Ron to stay at her flat in case she comes home, and sent a message to Harry putting him on standby."

"What are we going to do here?" Henrietta asked.

"We are going to find her, but," she looked at the blonde standing next to him, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I need you to stay here in case Rose comes here. If she does, send me or Scorpius a message." Eager to please, Henrietta nodded enthusiastically and Hermione gave her a warm smile before they left her behind.

They were barely out of earshot when Scorpius asked where they should start looking.

"At the lift."

Methodically, they checked room after room. Hermione was always in front, wand drawn, while Scorpius watched her back while she checked every corner. They found nothing. Not even a pair of snogging employees or someone taking a kip in an empty bed. It was troubling, but more so disappointing, and he wasn't the only one who thought so. By the time they reached the end of the second hall, the anxiety was rolling off Rose's mother in waves.

Or was it him?

Hermione was the first to spot the lone Auror standing against the wall not far from the lift. He looked extremely bored, but stood a little straighter when his eyes landed on them. Or – more specifically – when he saw the Head of MLE walking towards him.

He greeted them both politely.

She pasted a pleasant smile. "Auror Kempling. Any trouble tonight?"

"None at all."

"Has the body been transported?"

"Fifteen minutes ago, yes."

"Good," she said. "Have you seen my daughter, by chance?"

"Rose? She came through," he pulled out a brass pocketwatch and flipped it open in one smooth motion. "A little over…thirty minutes ago. The way you just came was closed so they could transport the body out quietly. She gave be a spiel about Primary school, points and straight lines?" He looked confused, and Scorpius could only imagine how that exchange must have gone. "But I wouldn't let her by." He shook his head a bit and chuckled. "She wasn't happy about it. Pretty sure she called me a grumpy gargoyle."

"That sounds like Rose," Hermione smirked.

"Which way did you send her?" Scorpius asked, following Hermione's lead and keeping his tone as casual as possible.

He thumbed to his right, but looked askance at his boss. "Everything okay?"

_No._

"Yes, of course," she smiled, but it was fake and perfunctory. "The hall is open again so there's no need to deter anyone else. You should report to the Staff Room for briefing and head on home. Be sure to get some rest and tell you wife I said hello."

Auror Kempling nodded and with another polite smile, he left them alone, walking in the direction they'd just come. They waited until he was out of sight before Hermione turned to him, puzzlement splashed across her face. "Thirty minutes ago?" It was a rhetorical question. "He said she went that way, right?" She pointed to the right.

Scorpius nodded. "There's a hall of private long-term patient rooms just around the corner."

"Why aren't they in the Janis Thickney ward?"

"Their families pay an obscene amount for them to have private rooms outside the ward. It was an option the hospital gave families after the expansion."

"Interesting." Hermione exhaled and started walking again. He followed. It was quiet for a few moments before she said, "If Rose ends up being fine, I'm going to make her tap dance for _hours_ for worrying me like this."

Scorpius fell into step beside her. "I'm going to make her eat tofu."

"That's surprisingly wicked of you," she laughed quietly.

"Just another thing I picked up from seven years in Ravenclaw." He said as they turned the corner. Scorpius looked over. "Contrary to popular beliefs—" The quirky smile on Hermione's face morphed into alarm and as she stopped. His head snapped to what she'd spotted and froze, his stomach turning to ice.

There was a body in the doorway of one of the rooms.

Or rather, there was a hand tightly gripping a familiar wand.

Scorpius wasn't sure of two things: who had nearly shouted Rose's name or which one of them moved first. The next moments blurred together in a whirlwind of pure adrenaline, movement, and discovery. _Rose_. Her body was lying crumpled in an awkward heap of limbs and forming bruises, eyes open and unseeing, blood at the corner of her mouth.

For the first time in his entire career, Scorpius froze. His heart raced and blood rushed just like it did each time there was an emergency, but everything else just _stopped_.

The first thing Hermione did was close her eyes. Her silent distress and shaky breaths were too much for Scorpius. His head swam with so many broken thoughts he couldn't repair. Numbly, he dropped to his knees on the other side of Rose's body and didn't breathe until he pressed two fingers to the side of her neck and figured out that he hadn't lost his best friend. He felt her hand. "She's Stunned. She isn't—" _Dead_, he couldn't say, but Hermione understood him all the same. She looked nearly sick with relief. He kept his fingers on Rose's neck. Her pulse was slow, but strong, and he took that moment to pull himself together.

To focus.

This was what he did for a living. This was his career. He was known for his ability to remain completely calm and level-headed during life or death situations. It didn't matter who it was or how dire the situation, he always held himself together. More than ever, he needed to remember that. "We—" Scorpius choked out. "We need to get her on her back."

Hermione seemed to come back to herself as well. "Right." She wiped her eyes, moving so she could secure Rose's head and neck with her hands. Scorpius moved to a more comfortable position, securing her arms and back. "We'll roll her on three. One. Two. Three."

They rolled Rose over as gently as they could, but her other arm escaped his grip and flopped to the ground, the sound of her bones rubbing together made him momentarily nauseous. While Hermione absently ran a gentle hand over her daughter's hair, he began mentally noting Rose's injuries: ankle (sprain), bruise on her head (concussion), wrist (broken), bloody nose (unknown cause), bloody mouth (bitten tongue)…

Realisation dawned on him. "We need to admit her as soon as possible."

Her head snapped up. "She's Stunned. We just need to revive her. We'll get her cleaned up and healed. We'll need to find out what happened and try to get a description of her attacker."

"That's not a good idea." Scorpius frowned. "Before they Stunned her, they used the Cruciatus Curse…more than once."

"How—" she faltered, sounding a bit faint. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen this in Aurors and Hit Wizards who get brought in. Rose's nosebleed is from the strain and her mouth is bloody because she bit down on her tongue repeatedly. She probably pulled a few muscles, too, but we won't know until she wakes up." For the length of a heartbeat, Hermione had a far away look on her face that he'd only seen his father get from time to time when he was remembering. And then it was gone. "There's no telling what all was done to her before or _after_ she was finally Stunned. She needs to wake up on her own, slowly, in a cool quiet room with low light, and not before she's given pain potions. We can send a message to Henrietta—"

"We'll take her ourselves."

Hermione wanted to use Mobilicorpus to transport Rose, but he thought it would be faster to Apparate with her. So they stood up. Hermione sent a message to her husband, while Scorpius picked Rose up as gently as he could, knees nearly buckling from a combination of exhaustion, hunger, and her dead weight that was heavier than expected. Rose's mother was right there to help take a bit of her weight off him and she didn't bother hiding her concern. He adjusted and got a better grip, but Hermione's face never changed. "You can't do this."

"Yes, I can. She's too heavy for you to carry."

"You're _exhausted_. We can call a team—"

"Which will cause a panic."

"I'd rather deal with that than having you hurt, too. Not to mention, if you Splinch yourself, your father will flood my office with Howlers and—" Hermione stopped suddenly and backed completely out the room, which forced him to stumble backwards, but not hard enough to jostle Rose too badly. "Forget everything I said, message Henrietta. She needs to be the first Healer here when I call the Aurors."

"Why are you—?"

"This is the mistake I've been waiting for_._"

And that was when Scorpius finally saw what she was talking about. What had been there with them all along. What they'd missed in their initial panic over finding Rose.

The other body.

* * *

Scorpius didn't recall falling asleep.

What he had remembered was what felt like _minutes _of restless tossing and turning on the uncomfortable cot in Rose's hospital room; his mind alert when his body was not.

How could he truly rest after everything that had happened?

The seventh victim was a man named Odin Pembroke. He had taken three stunners to the chest five years ago during a mugging near Diagon Alley, survived, but hadn't regained consciousness. He was a wealthy man and had family that didn't visit as often, but saw to it that he was comfortable so it was hard to determine if the killer had done any of their normal rituals. Not that it mattered. His body was just like all the others, but the Aurors and examiners worked with a renewed sense of purpose as soon as they figured out Odin had been dead less than an hour. He quickly became their first – and the best – chance at figuring out how the others had died.

And Rose?

Much to the chagrin of Hermione, who had taken herself off the case due to an obvious conflict of interest, Rose was their prime suspect until they had proof of her innocence.

The new Ministry appointed lead showed up fifteen minutes after Hermione recused herself and things went from bad to worse.

Gregory Caldwell was an older wizard; an arrogant upstart with obvious political aspiration and he saw this case as his chance. All he needed was someone to blame, and decided Rose Weasley – the daughter of war heroes – would do just perfectly. He had her wand tested, but when it showed that the last thing she'd done was send off a Patronus message, he had brushed it off as inconclusive.

"She could have easily done that after she _attacked_ poor Mr. Pembroke."

"Are you _mad_?" Hermione had snapped, not bothering to keep her voice low. Everyone kept busy, but Scorpius knew they all were eavesdropping. "Next you'll hypothesise that Rose used the Cruciatus Curse on herself, broke her own wrist, gave herself a concussion, twisted her own ankle, and then Stunned herself to cover her tracks. Look at the evidence, Mr. Caldwell, and stop looking for a scapegoat. Do your job so this doesn't happen to anyone else_._ The scorch marks on the walls point to a third person; a person _you_ should be locking down the hospital to find."

"I understand this has been a stressful night. You are a concerned parent—"

"Rose is in capable hands. I'm more concerned about the integrity of this investigation."

"With all due respect, ma'am, this isn't your case anymore and—"

"But I am still your superior," she shot back coolly. "Remember that."

When Hermione emerged from the room, practically crackling with righteous fury, two Aurors – Dagworth and Williams – approached her. They seemed eager to speak with her in private and she led them both further down the hall and out of earshot. They took turns talking, while Hermione listened and responded accordingly. She seemed to give them instructions that they were eager to carry out, and left quickly. Before Scorpius had a chance to question, Auror Sheppley called him over to get his statement.

Which went about as well as he had expected.

Sheppley had finished with Scorpius just as Henrietta and Stretton – a Mediwitch who had been in Rose's house at Hogwarts – finished assessing Rose, administering what few potions they could in her unconscious state, and prepared her for transport to the trauma ward. Caldwell came out of the Pembroke's room and told Henrietta to wake Rose so she could be questioned; a request that upset Hermione so badly she vibrated with rage.

"It's against protocol for cases when an Unforgivable has been used," Stretton explained.

Cauldwell ignored her. "What is hospital policy about a—" A nearby Auror cleared his throat to stop him from saying the word _murderer_ in front of people who weren't privy to that just yet. Scorpius wasn't sure it mattered. No one was stupid enough to believe that 'undetermined death' nonsense anymore. Not after this. "This is important to an ongoing investigation," Caldwell had said. "I trust you understand that."

"We both understand, but the needs of one don't control the protocol that has helped many." Henrietta had said thinly. Scorpius covered his smirk with a cough. Sheppley shot him a suspicious look.

"I'm sure your superiors would say otherwise."

And they likely would.

Henrietta had known that; her exhale told Scorpius as much. "I'm still not going to do something that will likely have a negative effect on my patient's health. I believe the Muggles call it, 'Do no harm.' However, to compromise, I'll give her a Revive Potion instead." She was looking at Rose's mother when she said, "It'll be easier on her body."

Hermione consented with a nod.

Not that it mattered.

Rose didn't wake.

Not when Healers documented and tended to her injuries. Not when they cleaned her up and admitted her to the hospital. Not even when her dad burst into her room, followed by Harry and Ginny Potter, swearing hotly about how they'd posted Aurors outside her room as if she were a common criminal. She slept through daybreak and breakfast provided by Albus; throughout Lily's oddly quiet visit and her grandmother fretting over the state of her hair.

But most importantly, Rose slept during each of Caldwell's inspections.

After Caldwell's third, Scorpius had stretched out on the cot at the suggestion of Ginny after finishing his third cup of tea… and woke up to a dark hospital room. It was silent, too, save Al snoring away on his makeshift bed of chairs by the window and the choked sob coming from across the room. He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face and turning to the source of the sound.

Rose.

Swallowing thickly, Scorpius threw the blanket off, eyes still on his best friend. She was sitting up, knees pulled tightly to her chest, forehead slumped forward, hair everywhere. Her shoulders shook as she rocked back and forth, crying softly. Scorpius got up as quietly as he could to avoid waking Al or startling Rose, grabbed the blanket, and padded across the room to her side.

"Rose?" he called her name because he didn't know what else to say.

No response.

He sat on her bed, letting his feet dangle over the edge. Scorpius didn't know how long he remained just out of reach, how long he didn't move, or how long he listened to her. The longer the silence between them stretched, the more Rose's sobs disturbed him. He wanted to leave her in peace, but couldn't. Scorpius raked a hand through his undoubtedly riotous hair, frustration welling in his chest. He wasn't good with words – especially comforting ones.

The need had never presented itself.

Rose was rarely in need of consoling. He could think of a handful of times when he'd seen her truly upset. She handled her problems in two ways: in private or not at all. And she wasn't much of a crier either, preferring Hexes and fists to tears. So whatever had happened from the time he had fallen asleep to now, it wasn't anything frivolous and…well, she needed him. Or someone. So he swallowed his discomfort and murmured her name again.

That time, he got a reaction.

"You shouldn't be here." Her voice sounded raw and strained.

"Where else would I be?"

Rose lifted her head, hair framing her blotchy and wet face. She tugged on the sleeve of her gown, looking away and down, blinking rapidly. He reached for the box of tissue on her bedside table, offering her one. She took it and loudly blew her nose, dabbing her eyes. Scorpius took it back and tossed it in the general direction of the rubbish. It missed.

"And that's why I was never a Beater," he joked lamely.

She didn't so much as crack a smile.

They listened to Al's snoring for what felt like ages before she ran her hand through her hair and told him, "You don't have to sit here with me."

"I'd be a terrible best friend if I didn't." Scorpius placed the box of tissue on her bed. "Besides I want to."

"I'm in so much trouble I can't see a way out," Rose whispered, voice devoid of everything except bone-deep exhaustion.

"We'll figure it out, trust me."

She looked him in the eye. "How can I when I don't even trust myself?" Those were words that had never come out of Rose Weasley's mouth before, and worse, she believed them. "There's something wrong with me. My mind…" she rubbed her temples a little too hard for his comfort, but stopped before he could say anything.

"You have a concussion."

"This is different."

"You don't have to tell me—"

"That's the thing." Rose cut him off. "I _want_ to. I want to tell you everything, but I want to tell everyone, too, and that's not right. That's not me, but the urge is…" Rose trailed off, scrunching her face as if she were trying to remember something. "Overwhelming and _wrong_. It's – I've – I don't know what's real anymore…" She stopped again and stared at a spot on the wall for so long Scorpius touched her arm to bring her back. Rose jolted like she'd grabbed live wire, nearly smacking him with a flailing hand. "Sorry," she murmured as she folded her arms over her knees.

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't, is it?" She squeezed her knees as if they were some kind of anchor. The question was obviously rhetorical because she didn't wait for an answer. "When I was Stunned, I could hear everything. They think I hurt those patients, don't they?" she asked, voice small and brittle.

"But you didn't, and when Caldwell comes back in, you can tell him just that."

Rose looked away, chest heaving as she fought back sobs. "I—" She choked out, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hospital gown and bit down on her lip. Rose tried to speak again, but Al stirred slightly and she ended up smothering another sob into her tightly balled fist so she wouldn't wake him.

He couldn't take it anymore. Scorpius didn't know why he did it, but he reached over and tucked Rose's hair behind her ear. She didn't jump. Not when he rubbed a tear away with his thumb and covered her fist with his own. He wanted to say something, but his mind was blank.

"What if I remember something else?" she murmured thickly moments later. "Something I know deep down to be impossible."

"Then don't believe it."

She chuckled humourlessly. "That simple, huh?"

"It can be."

"But," Rose started. "What if I can't help _but_ to believe it?" Scorpius opened his mouth when her tone took on a hysterical edge, but she stopped him. "Wait. I just – I see flashes of myself doing…things. Horrible things. Nothing complete, just fragments, like the preview of a film. And I know – I _know_ it's not me, the hands I see don't look like mine, but the memories are so _real_. I can feel the weight of it in my hand and smell the blood and even though I know they aren't real, I believe in these memories like I believe in gravity."

"Rose," he said her name as gently as he could. "What are you doing in these memories?"

"I'm _killing_ them." Tears rolled down her cheeks and he squeezed her trembling fist so she wouldn't wander off. "All the p-people who have died so far. It's _me_, I see myself, every time, and it _hurts_. My head feels like—" Rose ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut so tight it looked painful, but tears kept slipping out. She was so tense that he could see the veins in the side of her neck. "It's too much. The pressure. The memories. I see their faces in my head, I see them dying, and I want to stop, but I don't know what I'm doing, how I'm doing it. I can't see. I just see them die. And all—" Her voice caught in her throat. "I _believe_ is that I'm doing them a _favour_. What kind of twisted shit is that?"

"Try to relax," he said in lieu of a real response, because really, what could he possibly say?

"It's _wrong_." Rose finally opened her eyes, looking everywhere except at him. "It's all wrong and I don't know why I believe it. I have actual memories that overlap with these. Like yesterday. I remember you, Al, and James coming to my flat after six to bully me into going to the rave, but I also remember sneaking into a woman's room at the same time and—" She stopped, exhaling harshly. "I know the first is real, I know it is, but I can't help but _believe_ the second."

Still at a loss for words, Scorpius wrapped her up in the blanket and hugged her, staring at the wall behind them without seeing. That was simple. That he could do. That he could handle. Everything else was too much; too big and terrifying. Scorpius closed his eyes and held on as tight as he could manage with her knees in the way.

And they stayed like that.

Rose tucked her forehead into the crook of his neck, breathing roughly and trembling like a frightened child. He knew it was the perfect time to say something, anything, to take her mind off the war zone in her head, but the right words wouldn't come.

So he started talking.

Not about anything, really. He just retold old stories, some Rose already knew and some she didn't. He talked about the kid who called him a Death Eater at six, the time James' owl decided to terrorise Al and Scorpius found hiding under his bed with his old Beater's bat, what happened to Lily at the rave, the boring particulars about his father's small investment firm, and his grandparents Valentine's day ball in a few days that he'd told a few convincing lies to avoid because he knew they would try to throw him into the clutches of yet another witch from a prominent family. Scorpius talked until his throat grew raw, his leg cramped, and Al stopped snoring, and didn't stop until Rose stilled and her breathing evened.

Only then, when it was silent, could he start piecing together their conversation and mentally recalling everything he knew about the only thing that could have Rose thinking she was a killer: Memory Charms.

Scorpius couldn't remember much, unfortunately. He would need to do some research and perhaps talk to Hermione, who had more experience with them. Most of his was theoretical, at best. He knew Memory Charms were a bit more complex than many realised, which made them easier to botch-up. Muggles and the unconscious were the easiest targets, while moving wizards were the hardest. He knew that the more specific the targeted memories were, the harder they were to remove, and that there were certain variables to account for when trying to completely erase memories. It had a lot to do with the strength of the person's mind, their emotional connection to the targeted memories, not to mention, their age and several more factors Scorpius couldn't recollect.

Inserting memories were even harder. It took time. A lot of it because memories were tricky things. And he had a hunch that whoever had done this to Rose hadn't accounted for too much of anything, which was probably why their charm had only partly worked.

Rose started to uncurl like a fern, straightening and turning and shifting until her back was pressed against his chest. She rubbed her head from time to time and winced in pain, but mostly, she rested against him with her eyes shut. Scorpius just held her and held on for her because he couldn't do anything else right then.

He thought she had fallen back asleep until she said, "Thanks for staying, even though I was a blubbering wreck."

"Don't thank me, I—do you feel better?"

"Not one bit, but I'm not as scared or as out of control as I was when I woke up." Rose confessed. "What do you think happened to me?"

"I don't know exactly, but I do know you had nothing to do with any of this."

Her hands clenched in her lap and Scorpius couldn't tell if she was frustrated or in pain. "I don't _truly_ remember anything I left Healer Brown's office. "How do you—"

Scorpius never let her finish. "I know because I know _you_. Better than I know myself. You may not trust yourself right now, but do you trust me?"

Rose's nod was jerky, but it enough for him.

"Good, because I have a theory. I think you saw something you shouldn't have and someone tried – and partially failed – to put a powerful Memory Charm on you so you wouldn't tell. It explains the overlap of memories and why the false ones are choppy and strange. It probably explain at least some of the pain, too. I'm not sure, but someone wanted you to believe you were killing patients. I don't know why the charm didn't work, maybe you fought it while you were unconscious or maybe you're just too damn stubborn to let anyone compel you to believe in something you know to be false."

Rose let out an emotionless chuckle and fell silent for a moment. "We can reverse it, right? I don't think I can live like this. The headaches alone are—"

"Probably exacerbated by the concussion, but we'll talk to your family when they return. I know a few Healers who specialise in reversing Memory Charms, and the Manor's library has several shelves of books dedicated to them. We'll find an answer."

She nodded a bit more confidently and he was oddly relieved.

"How did you and mum find me?"

"You sent a Patronus. One of the Aurors thinks you sent it by accident, which makes a lot of sense. It was badly damaged and the message was…" he trailed off.

"What was it?"

"It was of you screaming, I think. And then it exploded."

Rose stilled. "If none of this had happened, I would think that was so awesome. Now I just want to know what happened to me."

"Before we can do that, you have to—"

"Lie my bloody _face_ off to clear my name with Caldwell? That's his name, right?"

"Yes, and I'll help."

"Me too," a third voice piped in. Scorpius wasn't sure who was startled more, him or Rose, who had actually shouted, _"Son of a—"_ They both jerked their heads to Al, who was lying awake on his chairs, smiling sheepishly. "So what's the plan?"

Scorpius hit him in the face with a pillow and Rose just laughed and laughed.

His relief was palphable.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** LONG CHAPTER IS LONG. I kept telling myself "Self, this is not _Broken_. Can we keep it shorter?" And Self said, "Yeahno." Rude. Besides, I had to do just this with this chapter so it can set up some things. Like Meeting Draco for the first time, which happens in chapter 7. Pretty stoked to write him as Older!Snarky!But Wiser!Draco. Anywho. Pretty sure the "His head was full of broken thoughts that he couldn't repair" line came from a Nine Inch Nails song. Hurt, maybe. Didn't realize it until my first re-read, but it was so perfect that I left it alone. I'm just a bit under halfway through chapter 7, which tackles Post-attack Rose, and it's weird not writing her all sarcastic and such, I must say, but I don't think she can fully be her old self after what happened and with what's going on in her head at the moment. Which explains her shift in behavior when she woke up. It's kind of a mess. Poor thing. Btw: my Scorpius is ridiculously awkward when it comes to feelings, if you hadn't figured it out. Lol. That is foreshadowing. Lots of foreshadowing. And I thought I should explain the Weasley-Malfoy family dynamic a bit in this. Because that plays out a lot in the coming chapters. Here's to hoping it doesn't take forever. Love you guys, thanks for being patient. Life is...life. Now I must dash. Ta!

-inadaze22


	7. Angel of Mercy

****This hasn't been beta'd yet, I just decided to throw it up today because I was bored. The beta'd version will be up later****

* * *

**Chapter Seven – Angel of Mercy**

"…everything you remember."

Rose raised her eyes to her mum, over to her dad, and up to Al, who was egging her with his eyes to start telling the story they'd crafted in a pinch. Okay, five minutes. She looked at Scorpius, who was very much _not on board_ with the lie they'd cooked up and thought they should tell her parents the truth, but was still supportively sitting at her bedside, absently holding her hand. Rose looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed.

He had a point. It was a pretty stupid lie.

And Rose, as a rule, didn't lie.

Not completely, at least.

She had spent most of her life thus far straddling the fence between dishonesty and truth, never bothering to swing the other leg over either way. Slytherin taught her not to commit to either. Being honest, in some cases, was simply not an option. Full stop. The entire truth was a messy, ugly, overrated thing. Outright lying was…well, it was simply _not on_. Rose could lie better than most – having a mother who could sniff out a lie like a hound had honed her skills. But the problem with lies was that they never went away; never stopped being lies, no matters how many truths were piled on top. And while Rose didn't have too many qualms about anything, she had inherited her mother's conscience.

Unfortunately, deception was the currency of the world, after all, so Rose decided her best bet for a minimal-guilt survival was to become economical with the truth.

Yes, economical.

Everything was an elaborate game of _Two Truths and a Near Lie._

_Truth_: Her brain was dying. She wasn't being dramatic. Her brain was being sliced open and squeezed like a lemon by some sort of invisible, lemonade-craving giant. Or something. Her metaphors couldn't work in such conditions, okay?

_Truth_: She had heard everyone talking, and out of everything, her mother whispering her name anxiously and Scorpius' stoic-_ness_ were two things she could live forever without experiencing again, thank you.

_Economical Truth_: She didn't remember anything.

Her memories were like one of Nanna Granger's three-thousand piece puzzles, but more than half the pieces were missing, damaged, binned, and/or mixed in with another puzzle. Even if she could pick the real memories from the false ones, the few she had identified as real didn't make sense.

When she had first woke up – when she was at her barmiest and her entire _universe_ was collapsing around her ears – Rose had shut her eyes again and saw three things: flashes of light under a door, the number ten, and something else that was just so nonsensical she didn't dare tell Scorpius or Al because they would have locked her up for sure.

Glowing red daggers weren't a sign of sanity, not even in the magical world.

And yet, it was everywhere; glowing malevolently in every fake memory and the one memory that didn't feel like any other. It was in her hand, heavy in her right and stabbing into flesh in her left. She could hear words in a language she couldn't understand, in a voice she didn't recognise. A chant. Rose could feel the raw power in it. The wrongness and darkness. She saw the dagger pushing into their chests; watched the wounds knit up as if nothing had happened as the blade faded to a normal colour.

It was impossible, but so real to her; so much so that she had to cling to the fact that she was right-handed, that her voice wasn't that low or calm, that she wasn't a bloody _killer_. But sometimes knowing all of that wasn't enough.

Not when she closed her eyes and saw blood coating her hands and the life fading out of shocked blue eyes. She was never going to sleep again, not without Dreamless Draught. Which was a pity. Sleeping had been her favourite pastime.

Well. After gorging on the telly, of course.

"No matter what you say, I'll believe you. We all will." Her mum said gently, tucking a bit of wild hair behind her ear like she did when Rose was a child. The growing lump in her throat made it hard to swallow and her eyes felt gritty, itchy. Frustration came with the tears that she unsuccessfully tried to blink away. Her dad thumbed it away and Scorpius gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"There's nothing we won't do to keep you safe. You know that, Rosie." Her dad said, rubbed away another runaway tear.

Rose nodded, blinking rapidly and refusing to cry. Again. _Gods_. Emotions sucked.

She hated crying almost as much as she hated feeling like this: helplessness, afraid, raw, and overwhelmed. It had been a battle to keep the truth to herself. She didn't know how she'd made it through the first time without spilling everything. Every time she opened her mouth, the entire truth threatened to tumble out. It was exhausting. Rose could sleep for days – would, too, with all the Dreamless Draught in the country, the moment she got out of here.

If they didn't haul her off to Azkaban first.

Al fidgeted, looking subdued. "Forget it, Rose. Just tell them what you told us."

"I didn't tell you everything." She choked out.

"Rosie?" Dad looked more concerned than he did the time she had to re-grow all the bones in her leg after an incident during Auror training. He rested his hand on her free one. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

And told them everything.

Yes, _everything_.

Everything she had told Al and Scorpius and more. So much more.

She told them about the glowing dagger and words that had no meaning, but had been burned into her memory. She told them about the voice and what she'd seen in the fake memories. The feelings of justification for the killings. The smell of blood. The stabbing and the skin healing itself. The fact that she felt compelled to tell, even when she didn't want to. She was honest about the pain and the sensation that her mind was being torn apart. And the truth that if Scorpius hadn't been there, if he hadn't woken when he had, she would've gone completely mad with guilt and fear.

And when she stopped, Rose nearly sobbed from the sheer _relief_ she felt. The pain was still there, but the urge to speak was gone. She was so wrapped up in the freedom she felt that she didn't realise how _quiet_ it was. Rose opened one eye carefully. Everyone wore varying degrees of—oh shit. Was it too late to take it all back? "Mum, dad, I'm—"

"No," her mum interrupted. "I know what you're going to say, but I'm glad you told us. It's just—"

"_Bloody hell_." Her dad blurted, looking woefully out of his element.

"I'm barely out of the Auror Academy," Al breathed, looking dazed and overwhelmed. "I'm _beyond_ not qualified." He stepped back. "I'll find my mum. Wait, my dad. And Fire call Bill. And grab my dad's invisibility cloak. And…and everyone. I'll gather the troops. I'll—"

Mum stopped him. "Ron, go with him." When her dad started protesting, she just pointed to her nephew. "Al's about to have kittens—"

"Manly kittens!"

They all stared at Al until her mum finally said, "There was a time when you were the normal one. I don't know what happened."

"Life," he answered, matter-of-fact. "And probably the fact that I'm a middle child."

Mum and dad blinked at him. Scorpius snorted, but Rose thought his answer was pretty accurate.

"If you needed another reason to take him with you, I think you've got it."

Dad snorted and stood, pressing his lips against her temple for a moment before leaving with Al. Rose glanced at Scorpius, who looked thoughtful. She opened her mouth to say something – she didn't know what – when he asked, "Do you think you could draw it?"

What?

"That's brilliant, Scorpius!"

"I'm so lost right now." Rose frowned.

"The dagger, Rose. Could you draw it?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "Um. Hugo got the artistic gene from Merlin knows where. It's all stick figures and embarrassingly lopsided circles with me. _Roxanne_ draws better than me, which is saying something because she once drew a picture of me that looked like one of the flying monkeys from _The Wizard of Oz_. It was green and everything. Uncle George said it was a masterpiece because he's not funny, _at all_."

When Scorpius smothered his laugh with a cough, Rose glared, but it lacked its usual heat. She could feel the headache building. Bugger.

Mum just rolled her eyes. "Think you could describe it to him?"

"It's hard to forget, so yes." She reached over and snatched a pain potion from her bedside table, swallowing it down in two gulps. The result was instantaneous.

Her mother's frown deepened. "You're only allowed three every six hours. That's your second one in the half an hour I've been in here. You should try those meditation exercises we talked about before. It'll help with the pain."

"But potions are easier." And meditation required that she close her eyes and that was simply not an option.

"And when the potions run out?"

"One of you could always just stun me again." Scorpius made a disapproving noise to match the one on her mother's face. "Too soon?"

Her mother scoffed. "Normally, we would usually have _words_ about how bad it is to use your humour as a defence mechanism, but," a smile formed on her face. "I have had the night and morning from hell and I actually find it comforting."

"That I lost my mind, but not my humour?"

"You didn't lose it, Rose." Scorpius needlessly reminded her. "Someone tried to Charm your memories to cover their tracks."

She looked at her mum. "Can we fix it? I'd like to go back to the days when I didn't think I was a vigilante killer." Because that was always at the back of her mind, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

"It's already on the mental list." Her mother tapped her head. "Right under getting Hugo to sketch that dagger and keeping you out of Azkaban."

"Nice to know where my mental health stands with you," she half-joked.

"You seem to be coping better now."

"Because you all are tethering me to reality." She tilted her head at her and Scorpius' entwined hands. "_Literally_, in some cases."

"We're not going anywhere, Rose, but we have problems to sort out. Besides, I think I know someone who could reverse a Memory Charm like that and keep it completely off the record. You happen to be her daughter."

Rose straightened. "So what are we waiting for? Operation: _Fix Me Before I End Up in Here Permanently_ needs to commence."

"You capitalised that." Scorpius intoned dryly.

"Of course I did. For _reasons_—"

"Important ones, I'm sure," Mum interrupted. "I would reverse the Charm right now, but the problem is that you're likely to forget all the fake memories rapidly."

Rose blinked. "I'm not seeing the problem yet."

"She needs a sketch of that dagger." Scorpius reminded her.

Her mother nodded and rubbed Rose's leg when she just sighed. "Like it or not, your brain – however wonky you think it is – is the missing link that explains a lot of things about the murders. I may not be part of the investigation, but I still plan to finish what I started, in a more unofficial capacity. Which is how this whole investigation started, to be honest. The first thing we need to find out everything about that dagger in order to have a hope of figuring out who is killing patients and stop them."

Rose frowned. "And the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…of the one."

"I'm ignoring the fact that you're quoting Star Trek because it's not that black and white for me. You're my daughter and your needs come first to me. No matter what. It's really up to you, Rose. I can reverse it right now, if that's you want. We know enough to start from somewhere."

Scorpius shifted in his seat, squeezing her hand a little. "The Restricted Section at Hogwarts and the libraries at the Manor have plenty books about magical weapons. I could always start at the Manor later on, even if that means having to attend that my grandparents' Valentine's Day gala. My dad would help us, too."

"And we could go to Hogwarts next weekend to look there," her mum decided. "So whatever you decide will be fine."

Honestly, Rose wanted answers…almost as much as the Ministry. Or her mother. And it wasn't because of her _obvious_ personal reasons or because she wanted to work in a murder-free zone. Both were motivating enough, but when it came down making her choice, all Rose could think was: _what if they did this to someone else? _

And what if the next person didn't have anyone to keep them grounded in reality?

"Rose?"

She thought of someone else waking up to the memories of the blood on their hands and empty eyes staring at them in shock; the obsession and the overwhelming high that came with taking a life. The first time it was terrifying, but she'd pushed it back to—wait. No. That wasn't real. That wasn't her.

_Focus_.

"Snap out of it."

She thought of someone else remembering the dagger and the disgusting feeling that they were saving the victim from a life of pain and misery; where everyone took one look at them and judged them with one breath while pitying them with the next.

"Breathe, Rose."

No one deserved that.

"It's not real. None of it is real. _Remember_."

Rose would love to go back to her normal life because being in the eye of a hurricane was overrated as hell. But how could she go back? Even if Mum scrubbed the memories from her head, it didn't change the fact that everything was different now. It didn't change what had happened. Or what could—

"_Oww!_" She yanked her throbbing hand out of his, cradling it against her chest like a newborn kitten. "_Merlin_ –_ bloody Christ_ – _Oww!_ Son of a—what the absolute _hell_ was _that_, Scorpius!"

He didn't look the least bit apologetic, the wanker. She was _so_ going to sic Lily on him.

"You left the room," her mum told her, looking worried.

"I'm right here, oh my—"

"You were in some sort of trance," Scorpius said, a bit flustered. "You were _talking_."

Her mother looked at him, then back at Rose. "I said your name like twenty times and tried to remind you that nothing you were seeing and saying were real, but you kept talking about—"

"I didn't say a thing."

"Yes, you did. You said a lot. Mainly about how you were killing people to save them."

Rose froze, eyes widening. "Oh."

"_Oh_ would be correct." Mum patted her knee, trying not to look worried, but failing miserably. "Scorpius thought pain would snap you out of it. It worked."

"Obviously." She glanced over at her best friend. "Sorry I called you a wanker and threatened to sic Lily on you like a rabid dog."

He looked confused. "But you didn't…" Then he glared, "You thought it."

"You assaulted my hand! I think 'wanker' was nice in that particular situation. The Lily thing, however…it was rude of me to remind you how much she wants to—" Scorpius made an undignified squawking noise. She used that moment to look at her thoroughly unamused mother and smile brightly. "Defence mechanism, remember?"

Mum obviously knew how to pick her battles because she just rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of defence, they always say a good one is the best offence so we should get Hugo here, sooner rather than later."

Scorpius stopped glaring at her. "So you'll do it?"

"I want to help." She told them both. "And if that means staying nutters for a bit longer, I'll do it. Just." Rose frowned, feeling oddly vulnerable all of a sudden. Which was the worst. "Just don't let them take me to Azkaban, okay? I'm not made for prison life. I have a new sofa to think about. And all my shows on the telly. Not to mention the ice-cream in the freezer that I just bought. It _needs_ me."

There was so much eye-rolling that Rose was sure one of them would pull an ocular muscle. Rude.

"I won't," Mum reassured. "Or rather, you won't give him a reason to take you."

Rose blinked. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I've had a few hours to come up with several contingency plans. I think Plan F will be the most effective, but it'll involve some work on your part."

"Still not following."

"You're going to lie," she told her daughter bluntly.

Rose just stared at her. "I couldn't even lie to you and you didn't even have to turn on The Face."

"I'm going to ignore that bit because we have Caldwell to get rid of." Which, well, she had a point. "What you're going to tell him is much better than that half-baked story I hope to never hear in my lifetime."

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

"Yes, it was." Scorpius butted in.

She made a face.

"You couldn't even _begin_ telling it," Mum pointed out.

"I was _emotional_. Dad was giving me the worried eyes and Al was all remorseful about a lie I hadn't even begun telling. I just experienced trauma. Real trauma! I can't be judged for my actions or tears. Normally, I'm a wonderful liar as long as I have great material to work with."

"That's so reassuring," her mother intoned dryly. "Luckily for you, I prepared that 'better material' you just mentioned." Mum reached down and pulled out a thick bunch of parchment from her bag. Rose took the offered parchments and whistled lowly. "I wasn't sure if you would remember, so I had two Aurors copy the notes from the evidence collected in the room they found you in."

"Pretty certain that's illegal."

"You're talking to someone who kept Rita Skeeter in a jar until it suited me to let her go." Mum pointed out, flashing a rather scary smile. "Between this and what Scorpius undoubtedly told you, it should be enough." She pointed at the parchment. "I highlighted the important parts."

Scorpius just gaped, but her mum just stared back, perplexed, like she didn't understand his surprise. Rose wasn't the least bit shocked. Not about that, at least. Her mother was forever three steps ahead of everyone.

Rose fingered the edge of the parchment, eyes skimming over the part of the report that talked about the scorch marks on the walls while her mum continued talking. "I sent your dad away with the hope that Caldwell will come while he's gone. Your dad's worried and his temper will keep him in here longer than he needs to be and I want him to come in, get your statement, clear you, and leave as quickly as possible."

Again, the level of preparedness wasn't much of a shock.

The surprising thing to Rose was their unshakable faith in her. They all believed in her when she didn't really believe in herself. They trusted her. Her mum was breaking all sorts of laws to protect her and hadn't even contemplated it for a second. And Scorpius – the stickler that he was – hadn't complained about being an accessory to actual crimes. It was blowing her mind. Seriously. And while Rose wasn't one for expressing deep emotions – or knowing how to deal with them – she couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly appreciative for them. For everyone, really.

And she didn't want to let any of them down.

So she read everything while her mum brushed her hair and Scorpius peeked out the door. Rose asked questions, made mental notes, and pieced together the events from the incident. And then they created a much better story based on the evidence found. And for a solid ten minutes, she rehearsed while Scorpius filled in holes and Mum played Devil's Advocate. Rose took a break to test out her legs by stretching at her bedside and taking a few shaky steps towards the door with her mum right behind her, making sure she didn't break her face on the floor.

There was a knock on the door.

They all froze.

**OOOOOOOOOOOO**

It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that Caldwell wanted so badly for her to be guilty.

He wanted to get right on with the interrogation, but Henrietta came strolling in to check on her. Impeccable timing, really. She had loads of questions that Rose didn't mind answering because it gave her time to settle after they'd spent half a minute rushing to shove the highly illegal parchments into her mum's bag, swallowing another pain potion to clear away the beginnings of a headache, and getting her back into bed. Caldwell waited off in the corner, glaring at Rose as if she were responsible for all the evil in the world.

Which was just ridiculous.

Innocent until proven guilty was a foreign concept to him.

Henrietta eyed the empty vials on her bedside table before cocking a brow at her. "How is your pain?"

"I had a headache. Several of them."

"So I see." She checked her bruises and healed injuries Rose had no recollection of getting. "Since you were unconscious for a few hours, I'm going to suggest to you what I suggest to anyone who's had a concussion. Rest. No physical or mental exertion, at least for the next day or so. If you go to sleep, someone needs to wake you every few hours to make sure you wake normally."

"Wait. So that means my telly marathon—"

"Postponed. For the next day, at least."

Rose sighed, but nodded.

"Have you tried walking?"

Rose nodded, but Henrietta had always been a sadist in one form or another. She made her try again now that she was here to watch. It was about as successful as it had been the first time, only worse because she'd nearly taken out Scorpius when she stumbled backwards into him. He ended up having to carry her back to bed because she was too tired to make it back herself, which was just shy of humiliating.

"Why can't she walk?" her mother asked.

"She _can_ walk. We fixed all her pulled muscles and her fractured ankle, but her balance is likely shot from the concussion and the sheer amount of potions she's on. You should be back to normal in a few more hours. I suggest regular exercise for the next six weeks – starting in two days – to properly rehab your ankle."

"Lily will just _love_ that." Rose rolled her eyes.

Scorpius and her mother snorted. Henrietta even smirked as she checked Rose's wrist, making her bend and flex it, make circles, and wiggle her fingers. "Is there any pain?"

"It's a bit sore, but manageable."

"That's good to hear." Henrietta looked at Rose's chart and made a few notations with her quill. "Well, overall, you look much better than you did when we first found you. Are you hungry?"

"_Starved_."

"I'll have a Medi-witch send you up some breakfast. I think there's bacon."

"I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you." She paused. "When can I go home?"

"Ideally, you would stay overnight for observation, but I'm positive that if I release you into your family's care, they'll keep an eye on you."

"We will." Her mum assured quickly.

"Then I see no reason to keep you any longer. Mr Caldwell, I'm all finished now."

Well, there was no time like the present.

"I'd like to talk to you alone." Caldwell shot her mother a look.

Henrietta cleared her throat. "She's been through a serious trauma and, as her Healer, I'd like to stay and make sure—"

"Fine, fine." He waved her off, impatiently.

Her mother and Scorpius rose from their chairs without argument. "We'll be just outside, Rose."

Rose nodded and watched them go. The door clicked shut and Caldwell's smile staled. "So Miss Weasley, we meet at last."

She blinked. "That doesn't sound creepy _at all_."

Henrietta smothered her chuckle.

"I don't think this is a laughing matter," he chided.

"Oh, believe me, I know it isn't. But for the sake of my sanity, let's say we cut the dramatics and I'll tell you everything I remember? Fair?"

**OOOOOOO**

In the end, it all was anti-climatic.

She told Caldwell everything she'd rehearsed with her mum and then he tried to pick holes in her perfectly constructed story. Tried and failed.

Then he resorted to trying to scare her into confessing. Which was just idiotic. His intimidation tactics were so awful they were sort of funny. More than once Rose found herself covering her laughter with coughs or sips of water. And more than that, she found herself shooting Henrietta expressive looks because she was trying to figure out when her life became a two-star cop movie.

Unfortunately, Henrietta was too busy staring blankly at Rose's file to provide any answers or entertainment.

Pity, really.

It wasn't until he lost his composure and started outright telling her that she'd killed all those people that Henrietta's head snapped up. Rose was too busy staring dispassionately at Caldwell, who looked moments from having a stroke, to see her old classmate move from her chair. The highlight of the entire interview was watching as Henrietta berated his unprofessional attitude and told him to leave if he didn't have any further evidence of her guilt or questions for her to answer. They went tit for tat for a solid five minutes before Caldwell told Rose that if he so much as got a _sniff_ of evidence implicating her that he would be back. Then he told her not to leave the country and left, slamming the door behind him.

How rude.

No matter.

Henrietta maintained her defensive stance, taking heaving breaths and clenching and unclenching her fists, after the door shut. She was completely red in the face and she practically radiated with anger and something else Rose couldn't identify.

Oh well.

Henrietta had always been an enigma to her.

Rose managed to stay silent for a full minute – just to be sure he wasn't coming back – before she exhaled loud and long. "Bloody _hell!_ I could murder an entire _pig_ right now." Henrietta whipped her head around, looking completely unhinged and murderous. "I know—"

"I don't give a damn about that!" Henrietta exploded, which stunned Rose to silence.

Well, not for long.

"Um?"

"You _lied!_ You lied to him! For Merlin's sake, Rose! You just lied to the Ministry!"

_Oh, hell._

Rose's appetite vanished as her stomach crashed somewhere in the region of her knees. As Henrietta raged on, Rose just blinked wildly, panicking and trying to figure out what the hell had happened and how she'd figured it out. Rose had been perfect, telling the created story as if it were her own. Hell, she'd half believed it, too, and _everyone_ knew that a good liar believed their own story. Where had she gone wrong?

"Well?" the Healer snapped. "Don't you have something to say?"

Rose tried to tame her racing heart and answer her seriously, but she fell back on her default: sarcasm. "Mind yelling that a bit louder, I'm sure the wizards in Argentina haven't heard you yet."

And bad sarcasm, at that.

Henrietta just balked before making a noise that sounded more dragonish than Rose was comfortable with. She scooted further up the bed as Henrietta advanced like a lioness protecting her cub. Or staring in the face of dinner. Whichever.

Oh gods, she was going to die. Henrietta was going to sever her limbs and bury them at sea in separate boxes. And probably before she got to eat any delicious bacon.

"Are you _serious_? Gods, you just lied about a Ministry investigation that you were the _prime suspect _in and you want to have a bloody _joke_ and _laugh_ about it? Well ha bloody ha! You are so bloody funny! Let's see what jokes you'll come up with after I go out there and tell him everything!"

Rose opened her mouth to talk, but shut it again because Henrietta started hyperventilating and clutching her chest.

"Um."

"Oh gods," she panted, looking positively mad. "I should've told him the moment I figured it out. I let him walk out of here and now I'll be an accessory to _murder_, Rose, and it's your fault!"

"You should probably breathe."

"No! I can't breathe because I am going to Azkaban, Rose! I'll never get promoted to Head Healer and I'll never become a hospital administrator! Because of you, I'll never step out of my perfect sister's shadow. She just got promoted, did you know that? She's now the department chair of Asian Languages at Oxford and she and her husband just had a baby!"

"Congratulations on being an aunt?"

She was ignored.

"How can I possibly compete with that?" Henrietta ranted. "I'm the only witch in my family and that lost its novelty in Second Year, I'm still horrifically single, I make no money, I live alone with two cats, and my mum can't even brag about me because of the Statue of _sodding_ Secrecy!" Henrietta looked sick. "Oh gods, my mum! She's going to cry when they ship me off to Azkaban because I'll never marry a wizard and give her magical grandchildren!"

Her priorities were obviously out of order, but Rose wasn't about to tell her that because she valued her life.

"Erm. I—"

If looks could kill… "What could you _possibly_ have to say to me?"

Rose chose her words carefully, but in the end, it didn't matter. Scorpius chose that moment to open the door, bearing a plate of food. He froze immediately when Rose started wildly gesturing for him to escape while he could. "Everything all right?" he asked carefully, coming in further and shutting the door behind him.

"No everything is not fine! Did you know that Rose lied to Caldwell?" Henrietta immediately scoffed. "Of course you know. You probably helped her."

Scorpius blanched, but didn't deny it. "How did you figure it out?"

If possible, Henrietta looked even more betrayed. "You're in on it?"

"Yes, but I need to explain. But first, how did you know?"

"Rose has a tell."

That was news to her. "I do?"

"Yes, you do," Henrietta answered, tone venomous. "And no, I won't tell you what it is."

Bugger.

Scorpius set the food down on the tray near the door, looking more calculating than Rose had ever seen him. When he spoke to his friend, he kept his stance open and arms at his side. It practically begged for her to listen. Rose wished him all the luck. Maybe he could distract Henrietta long enough for her to make a run for the food.

_Priorities_.

"Well, Scorpius, are you going to explain why I shouldn't go find Caldwell and tell him what I know?"

"You're not going to tell him anything."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you know Rose didn't kill anyone. She didn't set foot in St. Mungo's until after the third death, she was at dinner with her parents at the time of two of the deaths, and I was standing in her sitting room when Ms. Shingleton was dying. You saw her injuries. She didn't do any of this."

Everything was tense and quiet for what felt like forever before Henrietta spoke again. "Then why lie?" She asked, sounding far more like the overly-rational, fun-killer Rose knew.

"It's complicated," she replied cagily.

"Explain."

And Rose did, but only after an encouraging look from Scorpius. When she finished, Henrietta wobbled to the chair and collapsed in it, looking five years older. "So that's why I lied," Rose finished lamely.

Henrietta looked as if she were still processing when she asked, "Do you know what could happen if any of this got out?" Her eyes locked on Scorpius. "This could _ruin_ you. Everything you've worked for. Gone."

"I'm aware."

"And she's worth it?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

She said nothing. Then, "You're an idiot."

"Rose is my best friend—"

"And you're mine!" She yelled. "I know you don't—gods," Henrietta chuckled dryly. "I know how little I matter in the overall scheme of things. I've always known. I know I sound jealous, but I'm not. Really. I just know my place, is all. And normally I don't say much about your friendship with Rose. I know how it makes you feel, but I can't – no, I _won't_ – just stand here and let you throw your career away for _her_."

"Harsh." Rose intoned wryly.

Scorpius opened his mouth to argue, but Henrietta silenced him with a cold look and turned fierce eyes back on Rose. "I don't think I've ever hated you as much as I do in this moment."

"Nice to see that you're finally admitting it," she uttered tonelessly. "I—"

"You're annoying, oftentimes lazy, and a flake. You haven't grown up at all since school, and at the rate you're going, you'll always be stuck where you are right now. You get everything handed to you; you got this _job_ handed to you. You depend on your family to clean up your messes while you pretend to be this independent free spirit who could care less who you're related to. You're selfish, Rose, I'll believe that even more if you let him or your mother get involved your mess."

Rose was gobsmacked.

When Henrietta inserted herself into Scorpius' life Second Year, she'd had so many opinions about her and none of them were pleasant. Henrietta was a pompous arse; a judgmental Muggle-born elitist (oxymoron much?), who hadn't made a single friend her entire First Year because no one could tolerate her and she couldn't be bothered with those she considered beneath her (read: everyone, except for the professors). Rose never knew why she'd picked Scorpius to be her first friend or why he decided to talk to her in the first place, but there was nothing to do about it. From the start, Henrietta looked down on Rose for a myriad of reasons that seemed to grow and develop over the years, but Rose held her tongue because Scorpius had seen something in her worth befriending. By the time they graduated, her dislike for Henrietta had transformed into indifference.

Well, not anymore. She was done keeping quiet.

"Are you done?" Rose asked coolly. "Because if you are done being a self-righteous arse, you should probably know you aren't the first person to say any of that to me. You won't be the last either, I'm sure of it. We might've gone to school together and you might've heard about my antics through other people or the media, but don't presume that you know enough about me to pass any sort of judgment."

"It—"

Rose didn't let her speak another word. "I'm not stupid. I know what's at stake for both of them. I didn't ask for their help. They didn't offer it. And you're an idiot if you believe that I could _possibly_ tell my mother or Scorpius to bugger off. Dogs with bones, the lot of them."

Scorpius snorted. "Accurate."

Henrietta stiffened.

Rose fixed her glare on the standing witch. "Do you want to know why Scorpius is here, Henrietta? Because when you care about someone as you claim to care about him, you don't think about the consequences, you don't think twice about trying to protect them. Their mess becomes your mess, and you don't walk away from them because you aspire to be a – a bloody _hospital administrator _someday!" Scorpius rested a hand on her arm that was shaking. Huh. When had he come over? "Everything you've said about me is probably true, I'm as knowledgeable about my flaws as you are ignorant about yours, but at least I know what's truly important. At least _I _have my priorities in order."

All the self-righteous anger seemed to bleed from her.

Scorpius slipped his hand into Rose's and squeezed it. "My priority is here, Henrietta." He told her. "I'm not deluded enough to think any of this is my fault, but I am the reason she was in the hospital at all. She came to be a good friend and make sure I didn't run myself into the ground—"

"Or Splinch yourself," Rose supplied helpfully.

"That, too." He rolled his eyes fondly. "She didn't ask to be attacked and have her mind muddled with."

"I—"

Scorpius held up his hand to stop her, just as she'd done to him before. His voice was as cool as Rose had ever heard it. "We're going to figure out who did this and put them away for it. You can run to Caldwell and make things harder...or you can stay and help."

Henrietta started at him baldly for a moment before exhaling. "Let the record show that I do not approve of this."

"It's noted."

To Rose, she added, "Also that I still am not your biggest fan."

"The feeling is absolutely mutual," Rose drawled.

"Fine. Now that we've gotten that cleared, what do you need me to do?"

"Expedite Rose's release."

Henrietta slowly nodded and left without another word.

Rose fought every childish urge to make rude gestures at her back and Scorpius just snorted. "Maturity looks good on you."

"I have bigger problems than all the unsurprising things Henrietta thinks about me. Where's my family?"

"Harry called in a few favours and secured an emergency Portkey for Hugo. He'll be here in an hours. Ginny told everyone what was going on and you all must have a contingency plan or something because everyone seemed to know what they were supposed to do and scattered."

"Ah, Operation: _There's A Mystery Afoot_. I was supposed to bring my dad's deluminator. It's in my room."

"Not even going to pretend to understand that."

"The streetlights outside my flat are bright."

Scorpius just blinked. "Anyway. Al went to the flat to pack me a bag. Lily went to yours to do the same." Rose groaned loudly. "Your parents Fire-called my dad to fill him in and he thinks we should combine our research efforts and start at the Manor. Your dad agreed to it. Hence the packing."

Rose blinked. "My dad did what now? He hates the Manor almost as much as mum does."

Not to mention the fact that their fathers famously _did not get on_.

An understatement, actually.

"My dad hates it more than both of them combined, but he abruptly decided to work from home and is there now, digging out every relevant book for us to start on."

"But—"

"Priorities, Rose. We have them."

She didn't say anything else on the subject.

Henrietta returned a few minutes later. She didn't bother with pleasantries. "You'll be discharged within the hour."

"Great." Rose paused. She was the bigger person. "I know you don't particularly like me, but thanks."

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for him." She glanced at Scorpius. "Regardless of what you think, I was just looking out for you. I do care, after all. You're my oldest and the only person to stick with me, no matter how difficult I am to get on with."

"I know." Scorpius nodded and looked down, then at his friend, expression serious. "And I'm just looking out for her. She's always done the same for me, ever since I knocked on the door of her and Al's train car, looking for a seat because no one else would let me into theirs."

Rose looked at him, mouth pressed in a hard line as she remembered how bloody terrible everyone had treated him in the earliest days of their friendship. It was something they didn't reminisce about too often. They had known just how lonely he'd been before they came into the picture (and Al bloodied Dustin McLaggen's nose right before Sorting because he'd called Scorpius a Death Eater. Dustin was the first in a month-long string of Albus-related bully-punchings that ended abruptly when Scorpius promptly floored a Fourth Year who taunted him about using Albus Potter to fight his battles. The detention she'd received for cheering for him had been worth it.)

Absently, Rose leaned against Scorpius like she had done multiple times during their first month of school when he'd needed a little human contact to make things better. He gave her a fond look like he knew what she was trying to do and smiled. Rose grinned back.

Henrietta was quiet for a bit, but didn't bother letting up on the probing looks she was sending Rose's way. "You don't remember anything after you walked into that room?"

Shaking her head, Rose explained everything she remembered when her mum and Scorpius found her. "Well, I became as conscious as someone who's been Stunned can be. I faded in and out over the hours," she paused and added begrudgingly, "Thanks for letting me come round naturally."

"I didn't. You didn't wake up after we administered the potion."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well. It's good I didn't wake up. I imagine the alternative would've been bloody _awful_ as I would've immediately started screaming my head off about being a killer because I believed it and felt compelled to tell everyone, even though I remember otherwise."

"Do you still believe you did it?"

"Yes," Rose answered immediately. "I just…" she looked at her best friend. "I have people reminding me that nothing I believe is real."

"And your mum can fix it?"

"So she says, but I have to wait until my brother sketches the dagger."

"The one that someone is stabbing patients with."

"Right."

"To put them out of their misery."

"So I believe."

Henrietta frowned and didn't say anything for several minutes. Scorpius summoned the tray over to Rose, who promised to name her firstborn after him as she tucked into her food. The bacon was a cold and the eggs were overdone, but it didn't matter. Food was food. There was a fruit salad that Rose didn't completely hate and a hunk of bread that was the first to get eviscerated. She ate as happily as she could with everything going on, Henrietta stood silently, and Scorpius made her shove over a bit so he could squeeze in next to her and figure out how many forkfuls of her fruit salad he could steal without getting stabbed.

Normality was on its way to re-establishing itself, well, at least it was until Henrietta seemed to come back from wherever the hell she'd gone and blurted out, "Angel of Mercy."

They both froze.

A bit of egg landed on her hospital gown. "Sorry, what?" Rose took scooped it up with her finger and ate it. Desperate times.

"That's what's going on. It's an Angel of Mercy."

"Still not following."

Henrietta looked highly impatient. She jumped out of her chair and paced back and forth in front of Rose's bed. "All the people who have died so far have been gravely injured or were on death's doorstep, right?" They nodded. "An Angel of Mercy is someone, usually a caregiver, who kills because they've decided their victims are better off dead than suffering. They use what they know to stage their crimes so people think it's an accident or natural."

"Nothing about that dagger is natural," Rose pointed out.

"Well, no, but when we find the bodies, we don't know they've been stabbed."

Scorpius shifted a bit. "Had they all not started dying exactly the same way and within weeks of each other, we would have never known anything was wrong. We would have assumed that they had died from their pre-existing injuries."

"Exactly! Which brings up the second part of this, which is worse, if I'm right. Angels of Mercy eventually lose control and start to, well…escalate."

"Which means wha—"

Scorpius went completely still next to her. "They start killing people whose injuries aren't as severe, which is safe to say that they've escalated to that point with Mrs. Shingleton. She would have eventually recovered."

"Yes." Henrietta looked grim. "And—"

"And then they start killing people who aren't even sick."

Rose put down her fork. "They didn't kill me, so that's a positive, yes?"

Henrietta frowned. "You were supposed to take the fall, Rose. They're under a lot of pressure with all the restrictions, I imagine. Your arrest was supposed to give them some freedom back so they can go back to being undetected."

"They're going to be angry when they find out their plan didn't work."

And the full weight of their words hit Rose all at once. "Oh, _wonderful_."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Her boss stuck her head into the room an hour later, just after Mum had just finished helping Rose into a change of clothes. She was currently tying Rose's shoes after a failed attempt had left her hovering just off the floor, thanks to a well-timed Hover Charm. Healer Brown looked more distracted and concerned than Rose had ever seen her. Mum looked surprised to see her old classmate, but overall pleased. The two exchanged polite – albeit stiff – smiles before Lavender gave Rose the medical onceover.

"I came as soon as I heard, are you okay?" She made Rose lift her arms over her head.

Rose nodded, putting her arms down and standing slowly after her mother finished. After being instructed to do so, she took a wobbly step that made her mum put her hands on her waist to help her balance. "I suddenly have colt legs, but overall I'm fine. I think I'm going to need a few days off."

"Sure. Take the week. Let me know if you need more time off." She said absently, looking Rose up and down critically. "How's your head? I nicked your chart."

"In case anyone has forgotten, my chart isn't public property," Rose pouted.

"Sure it isn't." Healer Brown smirked. "Besides the fact that you're a natural redhead—"

"The Weasley gene is strong in this one."

Her boss just stared blankly. "What?"

"Another person who has not seen Star Wars. Why is my life is so hard?"

Healer Brown just looked even more confused.

"It's best to ignore her when she gets like this, Lavender," her mum advised. "You're never going to really understand."

"I'll keep that in mind." Healer Brown still sounded a bit mystified, but she came out of it soon enough. "What I was trying to say before was that I am also surprised that you're actually on your feet after such a bad concussion, not to mention the fact that you were probably cursed."

"I've been better. I'll be a lot better once I get out of here. I like this hospital a lot more when I'm not a patient." Or being accused of murder.

"Understandable."

"My dad is settling my discharge and Scorpius is hunting down a wheelchair. We're going to my parents' house first and I refuse to be carried to the Floo. I have some dignity left. Not much after that sponge bath…" Rose glared at her mum, who wasn't the least bit sorry. "But enough."

"They're letting you go? They usually keep patients in your condition overnight. I would personally be more comfortable if you stayed until someone more qualified had the chance to clear you."

"Healer Sweeting did a proper assessment." Defending Henrietta left a bad taste in her mouth.

"She did, and she also mentioned some headaches in your chart."

"I'm taking the potions for pain."

"But have they figured out the root cause?"

"The concussion, most likely."

Lavender didn't look satisfied and she'd said as much, but added, "If she's cleared you, I won't argue. When are they taking you to the Ministry?" At the look of alarm on Rose's face, Healer Brown gestured to the door. "I ask because of the Aurors outside your door."

Rose visibly relaxed. "Oh, that. Well, I'll be going in the day after never. They're not investigating me. They're protecting me until I leave the building. I told Caldwell everything I remembered and the evidence backs up my story so I'm in the clear and I'm being released into my parents care."

Lavender looked like she had an infinite amount of questions left, but let it go. "Well, I'm glad that's all sorted." She checked her watch. "Well, if you need anything or need someone to talk to about your ordeal—"

"I have your mobile."

"Good." She nodded and clasped her hands together. "Well, there's someone who's been gagging to see you. Causing quite a ruckus, too." Healer Brown opened the door and gestured for the person standing outside to come in.

It was Bangs.

And she nearly took Rose off her feet with the force of her embrace.

"Oof!" she grunted, but hugged her back. More to maintain balance than anything else.

Okay maybe she was glad to see her.

"Al called me and told me what happened and I came right over." She meant that literally because she was still in her unicorn pyjamas and fuzzy slippers, bangs pulled back haphazardly with her reading glasses.

"You could've gotten dressed."

"Stop being prickly and keep hugging."

"You're doing enough for the both of us. More like suffocating." Rose fussed, but did what she asked.

Bangs pulled back sharply, wide-eyed and scared that she'd actually hurt her. "Sorry!" She squeaked, but did a pretty good job at keeping Rose off the floor.

"I'm fine. Just don't let go all the way. I'm a baby deer right now."

"You should probably sit." Lavender suggested.

Together they managed to get Rose over to the bed without any manhandling or carrying, which was a plus. Rose exhaled tiredly and Bangs sat next to her, legs swinging off the side of the bed.

"Are you okay?" She asked Rose. "Because you don't look fine. You look pale and I see bruises and a _sigh_ might actually knock you over. Not to mention the fact that there are Ministry officials practically guarding this room and the entire ward. And they wouldn't let me in to see you even though I told them that we're friends. We _are_ friends, right? And I saw Scorpius and he made them let me in and Healer Brown was coming to your room so I tagged along with her because he's finding you a wheelchair. And he said you're leaving?"

Whenever Bangs rattled on, Rose always stared and waited for her to stop. Her ability to vomit words was still unbelievable. What was more shocking was that Rose still managed to figure out what she was talking about. "Um. Yes and yes. I won't be around for a week, at the least."

Bangs looked ridiculously disappointed. "Oh."

"I'll phone you…tonight when I get settled." And hopefully had her sanity back.

Her mum cleared her throat pointedly and they both looked over. Rose rolled her eyes at the inquiring look on her mother's pleased face. Oh gods. She was literally _begging_ with her eyes to be introduced and Rose knew why.

Outside of family and Scorpius, Rose didn't have any real friends.

Acquaintances, sure, but no one she'd consider a friend.

_Well, until now_, Rose thought dazedly. Because huh. They really _were_ friends, weren't they? She certainly hadn't intended for that to happen. Rose had barely liked her when they'd first met, but Bangs kept coming around, finding her and talking, and just sort of worming her way in. And now she was someone Rose sought out while at work…and sometimes when she wasn't. She'd dragged Rose to a soap making class, got her to buy more organic foods, and she listened without complaint as Bangs rambled on and on about saving the world by recycling and saving the rainforest.

Which was, well, what friends did.

And Rose found that she didn't really mind.

"Jane, this is my mum. Mum, this is my friend, Jane."

Her mother barely contained her excitement. "It's _wonderful_ to meet you, Jane."

Bangs was star struck and babbling. "S-same to you, I'm honoured, really. You're…you're just great."

"And so are you, any friend of Rose's is great in my books."

The blonde just beamed widely and turned it on Rose. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me, too."

Lavender cleared her throat. "We should go, Jane, they only gave us five minutes."

Bangs nodded and hugged Rose again. "You'll ring me if you need anything, yes?"

She nodded and held on for another moment before pulling back. Bangs patted her head, got up, and left with Healer Brown. When the door closed, Rose looked at her mum, who was grinning. "Don't."

"Don't what? Oh, you mean don't mention that you have a friend you never told me about? I thought you didn't do friends. Isn't that what you told me after your Third Year?"

Rose just face-palmed.

"You ended up with your very own Luna, which is kind of adorable seeing as to how you spent the first eight years of your life barefoot, obsessed with vegetable jewellery, and trailing after her like a duckling whenever she was in town."

"_Mum_."

She laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. I actually like Jane."

There was a knock on the door and Scorpius poked his head in before either of them could answer. "Found a wheelchair and you're all set to go."

"Great! Let's blow this treacle tart stand!" Rose thoughtlessly hopped out of bed and ended up sprawled on the floor like a starfish. "Ow."

**OOOOOOOOO**

There was something different about Malfoy Manor every time Rose visited.

New drapes in the drawing room, bookcases in the library, racks of aging wine from all over the world in the clean cellar, windows in the study and offices, moved all the paintings to a forbidden part of the house, chic French furniture in the sitting room, rugs in the parlour, paint in all the rooms, light fixtures in the upstairs halls, completely renovated dining room.

It was a poorly-kept secret that Scorpius' grandparents were just trying to figure out new ways to bury the bad memories, silence the ghosts, and make it a home again, which was a lost cause as far as Scorpius' dad was concerned. He'd given up on the saving the Manor years ago and bought a ridiculously posh but homey flat in central London right after his son had left for Hogwarts. It had an excellent view. And was Unplottable.

The latest change to the Manor was a resplendent chandelier in the foyer that fit seamlessly with the room they'd remodelled several years ago. Rose would've taken a moment to admire the soft cream and gold tones of the grand room, but she was too busy being carried like a sodding princess because her knees had decided to take a break right after they'd Apparated from her parents' house.

"You can put me down now, Scorpius."

He snorted. "So you can face plant again and scuff the marble floors in the process? I think not. My grandmother will have my head. The Valentine's day ball is in two days and her three conditions for us using the library are: don't make a mess, stay out the way, and don't embarrass her at the ball."

Rose's mouth fell open. "I have to attend? I did not agree to these terms!"

"You actually did, by proxy at least. Your parents agreed, Al, too."

"You all are dead to me."

"That doesn't change the fact that we're here."

"Bollocks! If we leave right now, they'll never know we were here, right?" At the doubtful look on Scorpius' face, Rose whinged. "You lied about your work schedule to avoid it. You can't _possibly_ want to go."

"_No one_ wants to go to this ball," a deep, familiar voice drawled from the balcony overlooking the foyer. They both looked up sharply to see Scorpius' dad start down the right staircase, holding a pair of crutches. He wore a sharp navy suit and looked as if he'd just left a business meeting. Which was likely the case as it wasn't even noon. He looked pleased to see them. "Son, Rose."

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, Mr Draco." It felt weird to call him that, but whenever she called him Mr Malfoy, he always bristled and said his father was elsewhere.

"I thought you were coming by Floo."

"We were, but Rose's legs made us change our travel plans."

"Ah. Granger mentioned that. I suppose that's what these are for." He made an abated gesture to the crutches. "Your cousin James owled these to me. I only just reversed the Shrinking Charm. The note said they were for a _Tiny Tim_, whatever that means."

Scorpius let out a loud laugh and Rose did her best to look put out, but joined him in the end. Draco just stared at them blankly, but by the time Rose explained the joke and got the hang of walking with crutches, he was smothering his amusement into his fist. She started glaring at him, too, but then he mentioned that he had a Fire call to make and lunch was waiting for them in the dining room, but that he would be joining them soon.

And, well, how could she be cross at someone who was feeding her?

"Walking is hard," she complained about halfway through the slow trek to food.

"You're doing much better on the crutches," Scorpius praised, but she caught the hint of sarcasm. "I've only had to catch you once since we left the foyer."

"My upper body strength is a lie."

"I'm sure Lily will have you lifting me in no time at all."

"Don't remind me. The lazy sod in me is in mourning."

Scorpius cackled.

"My armpits hurt."

"I could always carry you again," he suggested.

"No!" Rose exclaimed. "Between that, the sponge bath, falling on my mum's cat, who already hates me, and being laughed at by the parrot they're bird-sitting for Luna, I'm fresh out of self-respect. I didn't even know parrots could laugh." Rose said mournfully.

"It was more like a snicker."

"I hate you," but it was half-hearted because they'd made it to their destination.

Lunch, like every other meal she'd ever had at Malfoy Manor, was extravagant and Rose loved every moment of it. Chicken parmo, vegetable biryani (for Scorpius), roast beef, assorted vegetables (hopefully for Scorpius), roasted potatoes, vegetable and bean soup (also for Scorpius), and various cakes and pies for dessert. Meals at the Manor were heaven for Rose…too bad that Scorpius' entire family were usually also there, staring at her with varying degrees of disdain, like she wasn't even good enough to breathe their air. But not today.

Today, she fixed a plate, draped her legs across Scorpius' lap, and didn't worry a bit about table manners. It was refreshing They talked about unimportant things and the weight of the day seemed to lighten. Just for a bit. Rose had a few troubling thoughts and nearly choked on some false memories at one point, but overall, she ignored them.

They were halfway finished with Draco walked into the room, followed by Hugo, who was toting a messenger bag, a sketch pad, and a worried smile.

"Hugo!" Rose beamed.

He dropped everything and Rose had just enough time to wobble to her feet before being swallowed in a hug. There was really no better way to describe it. Hugo had always been trailing behind her in height until he turned thirteen and exploded. Now he was taller than her and mum, and almost as tall as dad, with his lean frame to boot. James had started calling him Huge, which he hated almost as much as he hated when Lily tried to dress him in clothes she deemed worthy. She heard Mr Draco ask Scorpius something and started fixing himself a plate, but then Hugo tucked his head into the crook of her neck and she focused back on him. Rose held on tighter, knowing he needed it.

While Rose was emotionally constipated, Hugo was…well, he was an anomaly in their family. He was quiet, shy around strangers, reserved around everyone else, a bit awkward, wicked intelligent, but at the same time, he wasn't allergic to emotions like Rose. When he was a kid, he would cry at the drop of a hat, sometimes for no reason other than needing to shed the tears. Rose had spent his entire First Year threatening anyone who had dared tease him for it. Deep down, she envied Hugo for his ability to vocalise his feelings freely. Rose kept nearly everything bottled up and buried in cement, and often wondered what it would be like if she didn't.

That day was coming, though. Not everything she'd buried was meant to stay hidden.

The thought alone made her stomach turn.

Hugo pulled away, eyeing her sceptically. "Mum said you were okay, are you?"

"Partially," she shrugged awkwardly. There was no point in being economically truthful to her brother. He knew her as well as Scorpius did, probably better. "I've been properly distracted from thinking about all the bad stuff, but I refuse to go to sleep until mum reverses the Memory Charm. Oh, and I'm still not good on my feet yet. Note the fact that I've been clinging to you."

"I just thought you missed me."

"Well, that, too. I suppose." She ruffled his red hair, which made him pull face. "Just getting in?"

Hugo nodded, fixing his hair back so his bangs were mere millimetres from his eyebrows, just how he liked it. Mum would probably comment on the fact that he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"You should eat."

Her brother pulled back completely and helped Rose back to her chair. He briefly hugged Scorpius next, filled his plate with food, and sat on the other side of her. Conversation was easy, likely because they talked about everything except what they all really wanted to discuss. Mr Draco talked about winning the highly sought after bid to head up the expansion of Diagon Alley, Scorpius recalled the night of the rave to Hugo who almost choked when he talked about Lily's shenanigans, Hugo filled them in about his Muggle art school and how much he liked Italy. Rose told them all about her mini-adventures with Bangs and ignored how surprised her brother looked when she called Jane her friend.

Mr Draco was the first to bring up the topic they all wanted to discuss.

"Now that we're done with the small talk, we have much to discuss."

"Merlin, I thought we'd never get to it!" Hugo blurted out, which was so uncharacteristic it made Rose's head jerk in his direction.

"I'm not sure what's left to discuss." Rose said.

"I beg to differ, actually." Draco patted his mouth with the napkin draped across his lap. "Why did you walk into that room?"

She froze, frowning. "No one has asked that before."

Scorpius' father smirked. "Which is why I asked."

"It's kind of a funny story…" And she told him about coming back to the fourth floor from Healer Brown's office and the detour, which had found her inexplicably lost. "It didn't make any sense. I know my way around, but I was wandering the halls for what felt like hours. I was confused, tired—I even got _hungry_. I kept seeing those three rooms. And when the lights went out, I saw a glowing light under the door. I knew I was in a ward by this point, but I went in anyway because there was nothing else I could do. And that's all I remember until I heard them find me."

Draco looked pensive for all of five seconds before he said, "Ah."

"Ah?" Scorpius chimed in. "And that means…"

"She was right. It was a ward. A ward that some consider dark magic because it lets you in and – for lack of a better term – buggers with your head. My guess is that you never really walked the halls at all; it just made you think you were. Your brain filled in the room numbers you saw, but I doubt you made it past room eight. You probably froze in place the moment you touched the wards."

"So the feeling that I'd been walking for hours—"

"The confusion, hunger, and feelings of despair and helplessness. It was the ward. I bet you were panicking, shaking, and on the verge of a meltdown, too, am I right?"

Rose nodded. "How do you know that?"

"It's a ward I've seen before," he answered simply, but added, "I'm not certain about the lights, however. St Mungo's lights have never gone out, as far as I've known."

"What about magic?" Hugo asked. "Could there be a spell so powerful that if used it makes the power fail? What about this dagger I have to sketch?"

"You'd have to ask a Magical Artefacts expert about the dagger and an Unspeakable about the magic. Unspeakables know a lot about different forms of magic, but good luck finding one willing to talk specifics." Draco took a sip from his water goblet. "They're a notoriously secretive bunch."

"Quincy's parents are Magical Archaeologists and he sometimes works at the Ministry as an expert in Magical Artefacts." Rose told him. "I know he'll help us."

Draco's eyes cut over to Scorpius, then back. "Invite him to the ball, then, and tell him to bring as many books about magical daggers as he can find." He paused, then. "Oh, and don't tell my mother that her social event has turned into a cover for an unofficial investigation. She likes the idea that we've all decided to come to the ball willingly."

She mock-saluted. "Consider my lips sealed."

"Mine too." Hugo chimed in.

Scorpius took a drink from his goblet. "James' girlfriend is an Unspeakable. She might help."

His father considered it. "She _might_ talk to Potter because he's head of the Auror Department and a Saint, as far as they're concerned, but I doubt she'll tell any of you anything." Draco sat his napkin down next to his half-empty plate and stood. "I'll Fire-call Potter to see if he can do it." He looked at Hugo and Rose. "You both should finish up and get started on the sketch. Your mother will be here in an hour or so. She's seeing about getting Caldwell off the case. Oh, and there's a sitting room upstairs for you to work in, Hugo."

"Thanks, Mr Draco," her brother smiled.

Scorpius wiped his mouth and stood as well. "I'll come with you, dad."

He nodded and they both left soon after. Rose watched them long enough to see Draco casually throw an arm over his son's shoulder. She smiled, but it faded when she caught her brother giving her a strange look. "What?"

"Nothing. Are you finished?"

Rose eyed him suspiciously because Hugo's 'nothing' always meant 'something', but she wasn't in the mood to pry so she let it go. They put down their napkins and found their way to the sitting room. The trip was better than the one to the dining room, in that she didn't wobble as much on her crutches. Or stumble. _Or fall_. Hugo got right to work, pulling out his sketch pad and pencils while Rose settled on the sofa, closed her eyes, and remembered…

* * *

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Bet no one was expecting this chapter this fast, amirite? Well, something happened and I wrote like half of this in a day. So yeah. I'm gonna go dive into all the fic I have on my kindle (best purchase ever). Also this chapter is stupid long. My brain forgot it wasn't writing a long fic. Err. I haven't started on chapter 8 yet, but I have a good idea on the beginning. I hope I got Rose's reaction to everything spot-on because she's always been the sort to ignore all the reasons why she should freak out, while not freaking out, and throwing up all the defense she has to keep herself from freaking out. She is overwhelmed and has fallen back to sarcasm to shield herself. It happens to the best of us. She is complicated. As if the first six chapters didn't convey that one. Also, your theories about the killer will be entertaining to me.**


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